


Deep Dish

by starfish422



Category: Twilight - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Love, M/M, Romance, Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-17
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfish422/pseuds/starfish422
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slash: Sexy, brooding Jack Charles left Seattle to escape the specter of a love he could never have. A fresh start in Chicago and a new relationship hold promise and hope for him. Over The Top spinoff; original & canon characters. Explicit sexuality/language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue 1 - A Change is Gonna Come

**Author's Note:**

> Original characters, storyline and settings are the property of the author, starfish422. This story is a work of fiction; based in part on characters created by Stephenie Meyer. Recognizable characters and names belong to her. At no time has the author charged or accepted remuneration related to this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep Dish is a spinoff of my first serial, Over The Top. Jack Charles is an original character I created in that story; as such, he belongs to me, as do the other original characters that appear in Over The Top and in Deep Dish. :) Any recognizable characters which may appear throughout the course of this story are the property of their respective owners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue 1 was originally an outtake from my first serial, Over The Top. In that story it was known as the "Jack gets some" outtake. It forms the foundation for the story of Jack Charles, which will be told in Deep Dish.

_Jack_

I was trapped.  Caught between my loyalty to my best friend, and my preservation instinct.

 

As in love as I was with Ashton, the realist in me never allowed me to jeopardize our friendship by telling him.  I wondered many times whether he already knew.  He would never have been threatened by knowing – naturally he already knew I was gay – but I didn’t want to do anything to introduce any kind of awkwardness, even a temporary one, to our relationship.  So the man to whom I told everything never heard me tell him that I was in love with him. 

 

The weekend of Jasper and Edward’s wedding found me taking a three-day weekend – almost unheard of for me, a workaholic – and catching a Friday afternoon flight to Austin.  I had travelled alone, most of our friends having flown out in the morning.  I could have booked a seat on the same flight, but chose a later one, preferring to fly by myself.  I blamed it on having waited too long to book. Everyone seemed to buy my story, except Ashton.  He didn’t say anything but he did give me a peculiar look, knowing that I’d never left anything too late in my life.  In my line of work – a stock broker – if you leave something too late you cost your clients, and yourself, a shitload of money.  Ashton didn’t question me, thank goodness.  As good a friend as he was, he never pried, knowing I would always share with him when I was ready. 

 

  1. I was going for one reason, and one only: I wanted a fuck.



 

 

At the club I grabbed a drink and stood at the bar, just watching.  Some kind of contest was being held on the stage – the same type of shit that went on at Spin, and XY, and every other gay dance club in the fucking country – but fortunately down on the dance floor, things were still moving.  I watched for a few moments, until I felt a finger hook into my belt loop.  I turned to look at the finger’s owner, meeting a friendly, interested gaze. 

 

“Hey there,” said the boy who’d hooked me. 

 

“Hi,” I replied, glancing over his shaggy, dirty-blonde hair.  He looked like a surfer. 

 

“You’re new here,” he said, punctuating his interest by running his tongue quickly over his top lip. 

 

“Visiting,” I corrected.  “Just for the weekend.”

 

“A Yankee?” he asking, tilting his head.

 

I shook my head.  “Seattle.”

 

“Oh,” he grinned.  “Wanna dance, Seattle?”

 

I nodded, setting my empty glass on the bar.  I let him lead me to the dance floor, where a _lot_ of guys had already doffed their shirts.  He soon stripped his shirt off as well, revealing a slim, hairless chest and a tattoo on his left pec. As we danced, he inched closer to me. I liked that he wasn’t being too aggressive - the really forward guys really turned me off.  Truth be told, what really did it for me was someone who was a little shy – not inexperienced, mind you, but not a walking invitation, either.  Shy guys were something I seldom saw.. 

 

I was on the third song with this guy and was thinking he’d do, for me to take home, when someone else caught my eye. 

 

He was inching closer to me, every few minutes moving a bit nearer.  He appeared to be trying to check me out without being obvious.  I appreciated him not coming up and pouncing on me, especially when I was already dancing with someone else, which wouldn’t have stood in the way of _many_ of these guys.  This kid seemed to be more polite than many of the twinks I’d met in my life – the polar opposite, for instance, of that fucking punk, Cody.

 

When the dirty blonde had turned to a friend for a moment, shouting a conversation with the friend while they jumped up and down to the beat, I took the opportunity to slide carefully the remaining few feet until I was standing in front of the other boy. 

 

He was young, with thick, shoulder-length brown hair and a fine nose.  The curves of his top lip were rounded, delicate arches; his bottom lip was a lush cushion, soft and full, giving him a slightly petulant look. 

 

“Hi,” he said, sounding a bit shy, despite having approached me. “I’m Jacey.”

 

“I’m Jack,” I said, moving close to him, dancing so that my pelvis would occasionally brush his as we gyrated to the throbbing music.  He too was shirtless. I put my hands low on his sides to follow the smooth sway of his hips.  Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to rest on my pecs, and he started to get into the music more, his eyes closing, his head lolling back.  When he tipped his head and neck back, his pelvis would tilt forward, pressing against mine.  I could feel the iron stiffness of his young cock, and it felt so goddamn good pressing into mine. 

 

His chest was completely smooth – not even a treasure trail peeked out from the top of his jeans.  I licked the shallow valley that extended from his collarbone all the way to his novel – the planes of his chest were quite flat and angular, but god, he was beautiful.  He would give me a demure look from under his dark eyebrows, and my cock would fucking jump.  If he kept rubbing his cock against mine, he’d have me coming right there on the goddamn dance floor. 

 

I pulled him closer so that his chest pressed into mine.  His face was close, and he looked into my eyes for a moment before looking away self-consciously.  I took advantage of his exposed neck being so close to tongue his neck from his collarbone to his earlobe.  He shivered and his hands grasped my biceps before a little moan escaped him.  He was reserved enough that he wouldn’t initiate a touch or a caress, but Jesus, did he respond when I did.  So passionate – it was driving me crazy.  Vaguely I wondered whether he was more verdant than I’d realized. 

 

“Want to get out of here with me?” I asked when he had leaned his chest into mine, sliding his arms up around my neck.  He dipped his chin, giving me that reticent look and then he looked down.  His dark eyelashes swept his reddening cheeks.  I was almost convinced now that he’d never been with a guy before and was about to ask him, when he finally spoke.

 

“Yes, please,” he murmured. I repressed a smile at his use of the word _please_. He was polite, too - this boy knew how to push every single button I had.  He took my hand – the first move he had made – and led me to where a brown v-neck t-shirt was lying over the back of a chair. He threw it back on. It fit his slim body snugly, and Jesus Christ, he was so fucking gorgeous. 

 

Outside, he waited quietly beside me when I hailed a cab.  In the cab, I told the driver the name of my hotel and Jacey looked at me quizzically.  “You don’t live in Austin?” he asked quietly.

 

“No,” I replied, “I’m from Seattle.” I saw the cab driver’s eyes flicker to the mirror to look at us. I had slid my arm around Jacey’s shoulders, not wanting to break contact with him and the driver seemed surprised at learning that the young man was getting into a cab with me despite not even knowing I wasn’t local.  I rolled my eyes, wondering if the driver was new. Cabbies usually knew that many of the people going home from here tonight would accompany someone with whom they’d exchanged much less information than Jacey and I had.

 

Jacey was in the middle of the back seat, pressed against me.  He turned towards me and rested his head against my shoulder.  It surprised me as an uncommonly intimate gesture. So much about what this guy was doing was not the typical club boy behavior. I was becoming more convinced that he had little or no sexual experience.

 

I wanted to ask him before we progressed any further, but I didn’t want to do so in front of the nosy cabbie.  I decided to wait until we got to the hotel.  When we pulled up in front I handed the driver enough cash to cover the fare and tip and slid out of the car, holding the door open till Jacey got out. He paused for a second in the seat, looking at the cabbie who said something to him that I couldn’t hear.

 

“No, thank you,” Jacey politely answered with a smile.  “I appreciate you asking, though.”

 

After I closed the door behind him and the cab drove off I asked him what the driver had said.  “He said I didn’t have to get out, that if I was feeling unsafe I could stay in and he’d take me where I wanted to go, no charge.”

 

I was surprised but oddly grateful for the cab driver’s offer. He was being watchful, and that was well beyond what his job required of him.  I was also glad that, given the chance to back out, Jacey chose to stay with me. 

 

  1. “Have you done this before, Jacey?” 



 

He lifted his face to mine.  “Yes,” he replied.

 

“You seem a little…unsure?” I continued.

 

He cast his eyes downward again, and his cheeks colored.  “I haven’t done it a lot…a few times in freshman year, with a guy from my dorm.  Never with someone…”

 

“Old?” I supplied. 

 

“Beautiful,” he corrected.  “You’re stunning.  It’s…pretty intimidating.”

 

_I_ was beautiful? Clearly this boy had never looked in a mirror.  I was wondering how this could be when the elevator bell signaled that we had reached my floor. The doors slid open and I released his shoulder, taking his hand in mine and leading him down the hall to my room.

 

Inside, I flipped on a light – just the smallest one, to cast a faint glow in the room – and threw my wallet and keys on the dresser.  Jacey stood, his hands jammed in his pockets awkwardly as he looked around the room.  I kicked off my shoes and he followed my lead.  I came and stood before him then turned him around to face the full-length mirror on the wall.  I stood behind him, a couple inches taller, looking over his shoulder.

 

 

“Captivating,” I repeated in a whisper.  Cupping his face with my hand I leaned in, finally feeling those plush lips against mine. They were soft and warm and moved in perfect synchronicity with my mouth.  My other hand slid around the back of his waist, pulling his lower body to me.  My cock received a sharp jolt as his hips met mine and I moaned into his mouth.

 

He moaned too, and god, I’d never felt anyone respond to me the way he did.  I was certain it was likely just his own nature that caused him to respond to me like this – he was surely shy and reserved until someone came along who could unlock the passion that simmered within him.  Jesus, I was sure as hell the one benefiting from it tonight. 

 

I slid my hand under his shirt at the back and started to pull upwards. He pulled away for a second, lifting his arms so I could tug the shirt up over his head.  He unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it over my shoulders.  Finally making a move, he slid the palms of his hands across my also-smooth chest, his eyes looking a little awestruck.  Despite my busy work life, I spent quite a bit of time at the gym with either Ashton or Jasper, and I knew it showed – I was pretty buff. 

 

He stared at my chest for a moment; then, as though drawn by a force he was powerless to stop, his mouth moved immediately to my nipple.  He sucked and licked forever, it seemed like, alternating between the two.  Finally, he relented, and his soft, warm tongue travelled up to my collarbone where it lingered before continuing up my neck.  He was incredible - he was maybe twenty years old, but he could take his time and seemed to know instinctively how to make me feel amazing, despite his limited experience. 

 

Eventually, I had to pull away – my cock was throbbing and I just could not leave it bound up in my jeans any longer.  I unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down over my hips. I debated whether to doff my briefs as well, but decided to let him do that when he was ready.  Instead I moved to _his_ jeans, undoing the button fly and letting them slide off his slim hips.  He was wearing low-rise briefs, and I palmed his cock through the thin fabric. He was _hard_ , and certainly felt very nicely-endowed.  He watched me stroke his cock through the fabric, then finally hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled down the front.  His cock was gorgeous, standing out like a fucking homing missile.  He smiled at me when I looked up with a wide grin, and I pushed his briefs off his ass and they fell to the floor.

 

“Beautiful,” I murmured, gently stroking him.  He didn’t answer, instead taking the waist of my own briefs and quickly pushing them down.  My prick was a goddamn iron bar when it was finally released, and Jacey’s eyes widened at the sight of the thick, heavy cock. 

 

“Has anyone sucked your cock before, Jacey?” I asked. 

 

He blushed and looked down, nodding slightly. “Once,” he whispered, barely audible. 

 

I stroked his cheek and spoke again.  “I’d like to suck it.  Do you want that?” He caught his breath, nodding again, and I led him to the chair, encouraging him to sit and slide his ass forward to the edge of the seat.  I knelt in front of him, and just before I took him into my mouth, I looked up at his face. 

 

His lips were parted slightly, that beautiful full bottom lip looking so fucking enticing.  He was flushed and his breathing was already accelerated.  His eyes were wide, but not with fear or apprehension – it was anticipation and desire I saw there.

 

With my tongue, I traced the circumference of the head of his cock, feeling him shiver at the poignant pleasure.  I went slowly, knowing that he was receiving only the second blowjob of his young life – if I went down fast he’d come in no time.  I wanted to draw it out, let him enjoy the sensations.  Gradually I took just the head into my mouth, slowly rotating my head one way and then the other, dragging my tongue along the underside of the glans.  With each pass he would twitch, as though he was desperately fighting the urge to buck his hips towards me. 

 

Soon I changed my movements to slide my lips and tongue further down his shaft. I applied just the lightest pressure, letting his desire build and his enjoyment continue.  Still he fought the urge to writhe beneath me; I didn’t know how he was managing to keep as still as he did. I knew already how very responsive he was. It must have been exquisite torture for him not to grab my head and fuck my face. 

 

I decided to ratchet up the suction a bit, increasing the vacuum inside my mouth.  I also brought one hand up to gently massage his prostate through his perineum.  He groaned when he felt my fingers stroking and pressing.  His hands clutched the edges of the seat cushion beneath him. I reached up and guided his hands to my head and he immediately wound his fingers through my hair, the pads of his fingers stroking my scalp. 

 

I grasped the base of his cock and started to stroke upwards in rhythm with my mouth.  At last, he couldn’t stand it any longer and began to lift his hips upwards to meet my face.  He moaned, softly at first, but growing in volume and intensity – I knew it wouldn’t be long till I was swallowing his hot jizz.

 

Finally he stiffened, his body quaking beneath me, and I sucked hard. He cried out, tossing his head around as he flailed beneath me.  With each thrust into my mouth he shot his load down my throat, and I swallowed every drop greedily until he collapsed, gasping, slouched in the chair.  I remained on my knees, resting my head on his abdomen while he recovered from his orgasm.

 

Eventually, when his breathing had regulated again, he whispered, “Thank you, Jack.”  It was the first time he’d said my name, and I looked up at him and smiled.  His face was still flushed – he seemed in a perpetual state of embarrassment – but god, he was beautiful with that high color. 

 

“Do you think you could do that to me, Jacey?” I asked him, trying my best to speak softly and non-threateningly. 

 

“I’d like to…” he hesitated.

 

“Yes?” I prompted.

 

 

“What if I talk you through it?” I asked, reaching up to stroke his red cheek. 

 

He nodded again.  “Yes,” he moaned, the torment of his desire evident in his voice.

 

I stood up, taking his hand and leading him to the bed.  I lay down on my back and he crawled across the bed to me, kneeling over me.  I instructed him on how to use his tongue to find the most sensitive spots, how to pay attention to the reaction he got to learn what felt good, to think about where it felt best when he touched himself.  His mouth was so willing and when I finally got to feel that plush lower lip hugging the underside of my cock – pure fucking heaven. 

 

Once he got a little more comfortable with it, I discovered he had a good deal of natural talent in this regard.  Deeper and deeper down his throat he took me, swallowing against the gag reflex as I suggested to him.  God, the way he almost swallowed my cock, taking it so far down his throat that I didn’t understand how he could breathe.  He was fucking gifted. 

 

I didn’t want to come this way, though, so before I was too far gone I stopped him.  He looked confused for a moment, then hurt.  “Didn’t I do it right?” he asked dolefully.

 

I pulled him to me, slipping my arms around his shoulders.  “Of course you did,” I told him.  “You’re very good, and not just for a first-timer. You’re good for just about anyone.  But,” I continued, reaching to the toiletries kit on the nightstand where my lube and condoms waited, “I’ve been dying to get inside you ever since I saw you at the club.”  He smiled softly and looked down at the condom.  I opened the packet and handed it to him.  “Put it on me?”

 

He put it on me, unrolling it down my cock.  “Kneel on the bed and put your head down on your arms,” I told him, grabbing the lube.  Carefully I rubbed lube around his anus. H moaned when I gently pressed into the delicate pucker itself.  I took time to massage the muscle, relaxing and preparing it so it wouldn’t be too painful for him.  He moaned softly at the touch of my fingers, his cock again becoming turgid as it hung down between his legs. 

 

Soon he was ready, and after I had put some more lube on the condom I murmured, “Are you ready, Jacey?” His eyes were closed; he nodded.  I stroked his back with one hand as I used the other to hold my cock steady.  I pushed slowly and carefully, watching his face for signs of discomfort as I entered him.  Once the head slipped past his entrance I stopped.  “Okay?” I asked.  He didn’t answer. His breathing was labored and his eyes were still screwed shut.  “Jacey?” I persisted.  “I’m going to stop if hurts too much.” 

 

He shook his head this time, answering, “It’s okay.  Just go slow.”

 

 

“You’re so hot, Jacey,” I murmured, intending to work him into a fever pitch before I started to pull out again.  “Such a beautiful face…a sweet mouth that was fucking made to suck cock…and a tight ass that feels like satin…” He shuddered as I spoke to him. He arched his back up towards me, then thrust his hips backwards, begging me to continue.  I fucked him slowly, pulling out till just the head remained in him and sliding deep into him again.  I continued this slow and steady pace until he reached back to stop me. 

 

He began to grind his ass back into me, moving his hips in slow, small circles.  Jesus Christ, for someone without much experience, he was intuitive. He was now the one working _me_ towards my climax.  Soon I had to stop him – I was getting too close and I wasn’t ready to come. I wanted us to enjoy each other for a while yet.

 

I placed my hands on his hips, stilling him; at the same time I spoke so he wouldn’t think, again, that he was doing something wrong.  “Ungh, you’re so fucking good…too good,” I said. “Give me a minute.” I saw him smile – proud of himself, I was sure, at realizing he was good at this. 

 

I suggested, “How about I lay on my back, and you can ride my cock?” He agreed eagerly. When we had repositioned ourselves I hung onto his slim hips as he sank down onto my cock, gripping me again in his tight embrace.  His eyes were closed, his head tipped back. His mouth was open slightly and his tongue came out to lick his lips as he took my length.  He sat for a moment, flexing his muscles, massaging my shaft from the inside.  I reached up to his nipples, tweaking and pinching them.  We were playing a game, he and I, seeing who could most tantalize the other, driving the desire between us to new heights. 

 

Finally I had enough teasing.  I grabbed his hips again and lifted him slightly so I could fuck him hard.  He cried out, his cries mixing with the slapping sounds of my groin against his ass and thighs.  “Play with your cock, Jacey,” I commanded him hoarsely. One hand came to his cock while the other went up to finger and twist his nipple. I continued to watch his exquisite face as his release drew near.  I was determined to hold back my orgasm until after I watched him come. 

 

I didn’t have to wait long; very soon his body was tightening, trembling and ready to explode.  The place where we were joined became impossibly tighter, and he lowered himself onto me hard, forcing my ass back to the bed.  He ground against me and moaned. Hot white cum erupted from him, spattering my chest and stomach.  His moan became a wail as the waves of pleasure battered him.  I held my body as still as I could, forcing my orgasm to wait until he had come down from his.  Eventually he took one last deep breath and exhaled in a long gust.  His body fell forward slightly, his head falling so he was looking at me. 

 

It was my turn now and I wanted him to see me come, to witness the pleasure he brought me.  “Watch me, Jacey,” I urged him, my voice straining with my delayed pleasure.  “Watch me when I come, buried deep in your ass.”  I raised his hips again and drove into him, once, twice, a third time and then I held there, pushing my cock as far into him as I could.  His ass still spasmed slightly with the aftershocks of his orgasm and it put me over the edge. 

 

“Fuck,” I shouted, fucking him deep and hard as my orgasm racked my body.  “Jacey,” I groaned, punctuating each word with a slam deep inside him, “so…fucking…good…fuck…yeah.”  I was sweating and panting, teased by his beauty and his nubile body till I broke. 

 

When my orgasm subsided and the only sounds in the room were the two of us trying to catch our breath, Jacey leaned forward to lie on my chest. I ran my fingers through his shoulder-length hair, reveling in his softness at my fingertips.  We lay that way for a long time, his legs still flanking my body, and it occurred to me that I could very happily remain this way all night. 

 

All too soon, though, reality intruded upon my idyll.  I knew Kathleen and Ashton would expect to see me at breakfast tomorrow morning. With their room being on an upper floor, they would very likely come by the room to get me when they were on their way to the restaurant.  I didn’t care if they knew I’d hooked up with someone, but I didn’t want them to run into him in my room – that didn’t seem like a very classy thing to do, It was just more than I wanted to share. 

 

So I decided to give it a couple of hours, let him stay for that time if he wanted to, and then let him know I’d have friends coming by shortly.. 

 

Presently Jacey asked softly, “How long are you in Austin?”

 

“Till Sunday afternoon,” I answered.  “I’m here for a wedding.” 

 

“Will you come back to the club tomorrow night?” he asked.

 

“Tomorrow night I’ll be out at Lake LBJ,” I replied.

 

“Long drive,” he commented. 

 

“So I hear,” I nodded.  “I’ve never been before.” 

 

“I’m from Kingsland,” he replied.  Apparently he wasn’t quite so reserved when he wasn’t nervous any longer.  “About 25 minutes past Marble Falls.”

 

“Did you move here for school?” I asked, wanting to know more about this boy now that he had started to open up a bit. 

 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “UT Austin.”

 

“What are you taking?”

 

“Bachelor of Fine Arts in Design,” he answered.  “I’m a sophomore.” 

 

  1. I rubbed my hand over my face, wondering what I was doing. Normally I never went for someone that much younger. I didn’t usually find myself attracted to youngsters. What was it about his one that had caught my eye?



 

_Oh well_ , I thought.  _It’s just once, thousands of miles from home._

Soon he said, “I should probably get going…”

 

“I guess,” I agreed reluctantly, though I knew he had to. 

 

He drew himself up off my chest, and while he dressed I ducked into the bathroom and disposed of the condom, taking a moment to clean myself up.  I threw on my pants and a t-shirt and said, “I’ll walk you downstairs.”  He nodded. I grabbed my wallet and the keycard for the room. 

 

Downstairs, I had the concierge call a cab to take Jacey home and we stood outside on the sidewalk waiting.  The night air had cooled and a light breeze blew through Jacey’s shoulder-length hair.  After our superheated activities upstairs, he was chilly, shivering in his t-shirt.  Standing behind him, I slid my arms around his waist and pressed my body against him, hoping to help warm him a bit.  He leaned his head back against my chest. 

 

 

I shook my head.  “By the time I get back to the city, it’ll be too late…”

 

He turned in my arms, his face looking earnestly into mine.  “I’ll wait until they kick me out,” he whispered. 

 

“I won’t be there,” I told him, trying to be gentle but still unequivocal in my reply.  Over his shoulder the taxi pulled up behind him; I held a finger up to the driver to signal that we’d be just a minute.  “Taxi’s here,” I said quietly to Jacey. 

 

He sighed softly and nodded, then looked at my mouth.  I had kissed him in my room before we had sex - unusual for me since I almost never kissed a hook-up.  Jacey, though…

 

It took me no time to decide.  I leaned in and that delicious mouth that had brought me such pleasure tonight pressed to mine again.  I took his lower lip into my mouth, adulating its pillowy softness.  I didn’t release him until he sighed a soft purr. 

 

Finally he stepped back from me, his hands lingering on my chest until he could no longer touch.  “I’ll be there tomorrow night,” he said again before getting into the cab.  I simply shook my head, not bothering to repeat my assurance that I would not be.  I opened the front door of the cab and gave the driver $100, telling him to take Jacey wherever he needed to go and keep the change. 

 

“Yes, sir!” said the driver, his eyes widening at the stack of twenties. 

 

I stepped back away from the cab.  Jacey watched me through the window, a little smile on his face, until the cab pulled away. After the cab disappeared down the street I shook my head again, smiling to myself that he just would not take no for an answer.  I knew, however, that I would not see Jacey the following night...or ever again, for that matter.

 

The next day was clear, warm and beautiful – a perfect day for Jasper and Edward’s wedding.  Along with everyone else there, I felt their joy as they exchanged their vows, shared their first dance and mingled with the friends and family who loved them so much. 

 

During the reception I saw them corner Kathleen and Ashton and quiet demand to know the meaning of the sparkling diamond on her left hand. A ring I had somehow managed to miss, despite having driven the three of us from Austin out to the wedding earlier and sitting with them during the ceremony _and_ reception.  As soon as I saw them talking it hit me that Ashton had walked around the entire day today with a wide grin plastered on his face, and Kathleen had a light in her eyes that made her always-lovely face almost glow.  I spent so much time in my own bubble that I barely looked at the two of them, certainly not with a very observant eye, especially when they were together. But it was obvious what had happened after we went our separate ways last night: Ashton had proposed to Kathleen.

 

Though I had suspected for several months that this day was coming, it still felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.  I watched them, listening from about fifteen feet away as Kathleen spilled the beans and then insisted that Jasper and Edward keep it to themselves. They didn’t want to steal the spotlight from the newlyweds.  _Because she’s pure class,_ I thought bitterly to myself.  I couldn’t even bring myself to dislike, much less hate, the woman with whom Ashton would spend his life. She was sweet and kind, intelligent, and a wonderful friend, and she was completely in love with him.  I couldn’t choose better for him. 

 

Almost. 

 

Shortly after Edward and Jasper left the reception, the three of us took our leave as well.  I drove us back to the hotel, and though Kathleen suggested a nightcap in the hotel bar, I declined, claiming exhaustion.  I encouraged the two of them to go ahead before I headed to my room. 

 

Upstairs, I finally allowed myself to release some of the emotion I’d been holding back since the reception.  I’m not a crier; I ended up doubling up a pillow and shouting into it – one loud, sustained blast.  It would get me through till I could get to the gym and work out some of my disappointment and frustration on the treadmill. 

 

What was I going to do? Ashton was my best friend and he’d asked me in the car to be his best man.  I knew I would do that for him, but beyond that? I knew I needed to make some changes.  I couldn’t tell him I loved him – I wouldn’t tell him – but I was not willing to just stand outside their little snow globe of happiness, watching them marry and have their little family and their perfect life.  I could not witness that for the next twenty years.

 

Grimacing, I pulled a business card from my wallet.  It had been given to me by an employee of a brokerage firm in Chicago.  “If you’re ever looking for a change,” he’d said, “look me up.”

 

_Looking for a change._  

 

I _was_ looking for a change; one that would take me away from having a front row seat to Ashton’s happiness with someone else.  The question was, how big a change was I willing to make?  Chicago? I hadn’t lived so far east since I’d left Harvard with my Econ degree,five years ago.  Could I do that now?

 

I wasn’t sure, but I knew I wasn’t going to make this decision tonight.  First I’d need to find out whether anything was even available at this firm still – the economic crisis had hit hard everywhere, including Chicago. Then, maybe, I’d give it serious consideration. 

 

I was frustrated that there was nothing I could do about it right now, being the middle of the night on a weekend. I felt restless. Sighing, I glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside my bed.  12:30 p.m. We hadn’t stayed much beyond when Edward and Jasper had left the reception, and in my desire not to spend too much time in the car with Kathleen and Ashton, I had sped all the way back to Austin. It really wasn’t that late, and despite having told my friends I was worn out, I really was not.  Rather, I was seriously considering leaving the hotel again – and fighting myself on it, every step of the way. 

 

I paced around my room, firing a series of questions at what I found myself wanting to do.  Was I really considering this? _Why_ was I considering it? Where did I think it would lead?  Even if I was only thinking just another night together, what message would it send?

 

Because what I wanted – what I was trying to convince myself _not_ to do – was to go to that club again, where Jacey had promised me he would wait.  I wanted to go there and find him, bring him back to my hotel, and spend a good hour just kissing him; and then another hour – at least – licking and sucking and fucking worshiping his cock.  And then…I groaned, sinking onto my bed, remembering what had happened in this very bed last night. And I knew the part of me that wanted Jacey would win the argument. 

 

Which is how, forty minutes later, after a quick shower and a change of clothes, I found myself walking through the front door of Charlie’s for the second night.  I looked around the large room, not bothering to get a drink, because I hoped I wouldn’t be staying long.  Jacey would know when he saw me why I was here.  He would understand that, despite my insistence that I would not be back, I had indeed come here solely to see him. 

 

I wandered through the club a bit, trying not to be too obvious about looking for him.  I was beginning to worry that I had come too late. Maybe he had, after all, believed me when I said I wouldn’t be there and had decided not to come out tonight.  Perhaps he showed up but went home with someone else.  All these possibilities ran through my head, and I ignored the voice in my head that asked why I’d honestly care if he wasn’t there.  But everything was forgotten when, coming around a support beam, I spotted him about ten feet away. 

 

He didn’t see me right away, and I’d have sworn that as he stood with his back to the bar, looking out onto the dance floor, he looked like he was disappointed, almost pouting.  Was it because he was looking for me and didn’t see me? Or was it just that lower lip that nature had featured prominently on his face, playing on my hopes?  Regardless, I was again struck by his beauty. I realized I was walking towards him only after I had already taken about three steps in his direction. 

 

 

“Hey there,” I said, sliding one hand to rest in the small of his back. 

 

“Thought you said you wouldn’t be here,” he grinned, stepping closer, further into the crook of my arm. 

 

“Plans changed,” I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

 

He merely nodded slowly, amusement playing around his eyes.  “I’m glad you’re here.  I knew it was a long shot, but I hoped…”

 

“I’m still going home tomorrow,” I said honestly.  “That hasn’t changed.  But if you’re willing, I’d really like to take you back to my hotel room,” I paused and leaned in closer to murmur in his ear, “and this time, I don’t want you to leave in the middle of the night.” 

 

“Mmm,” he hummed, and turned his head so he could press his lips to mine.  I allowed myself to melt into the kiss. Everything about him reignited the passion I’d felt for him last night – his scent, his looks, his lips and his warm body, so close to mine.  He released my lips and I sucked in a sharp breath, pulling his hips closer to mine. 

 

“I hope that was a yes,” I murmured, and he smiled again, nodding. 

 

I had taken a cab to the club, not wanting to bother with getting the rental car back out of the hotel’s parking garage, so for the second night in a row Jacey and I took a cab to my hotel.  I couldn’t say whether the new cab driver found anything unusual about us because we barely noticed him.  The whole drive back was spent making out, whispering obscenities and generally being completely absorbed in each other.  Before we knew it we were at the hotel.  Jacey slid out of the cab while I tossed some bills to the driver. 

 

The night concierge recognized us and greeted us both as we made our way through the hotel lobby to the elevators.  On our way up to my floor, Jacey wrapped his arms around my neck, licking and sucking gently, driving me fucking nuts.  It was plain to see that his confidence level had taken an increase – perhaps that we’d been together last night, or because I came looking for him again this evening; maybe some combination of the two.  Whatever the case, I loved it.  I’d known the night before that he was intensely passionate – I’d seen it in the way he responded to my touches and caresses.  His confidence boost didn’t make him undesirable or arrogant; it just removed the insecurity and doubt that had held him back last night. 

 

In my room we each doffed our clothes immediately, and once we had no encumbrances between us we slipped under the covers of the bed together.  I groaned as I felt his long, lean naked body stretched the length of mine.  I rolled on top of him immediately, determined to get that hour of kissing – or at least take a crack at it.  For many long moments, our mouths were joined, our tongues dancing – sometimes a slow, gentle repartee, other times a throbbing, demanding incursion into each other.  Fuck, he could kiss.  And every time one of us shifted our hips, our cocks would benefit from the pressing, rubbing, shifting of our bodies. 

 

  
“Sore?” I asked. 

 

“A little,” he admitted.  “You fucked me well last night.” His eyes gleamed. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Oh yeah,” he moaned, both in answer and in gratitude as my fingers continued to work inside him, relaxing the muscle and preparing him.  As I probed I leaned down to take his rigid cock into my mouth.  He wasn’t the only one who’d been thinking about this since he left. I hummed around him when the head of his cock was reintroduced to the back of my throat. 

 

Unlike last night, he did not expend the effort trying to restrain his movements or subdue his response.  His energies were instead directed outward, his soft vocalizations making me ache and his entire body undulating with the lust that roiled within him.  I reached down to my own cock to twist my fingers around the head for a few moments, until I decided he was ready.  Withdrawing my fingers and mouth from him, I snagged a condom from the nightstand and quickly put it on, slicking it with the lube. 

 

“It’s time, Jacey,” I murmured, supporting my upper body with my arms so that my face hovered inches above his.  “It’s time for you to take my cock, deep inside your tight ass.  You want that, don’t you, sweet boy.  You want to feel my hard cock stretching you and filling you.”

 

  1. I began to move the finger around the circumference, sliding between my cock and his anus – the effect was at once pleasurable and mildly painful, as it stretched the muscle farther than my cock did. 



 

“Relax, sweet boy,” I whispered, instructing him to take a deep breath. When he let it out I slid my cock steadily into him, filling him with one smooth motion.  My fingertip was still hooked inside him, and I slid it deeper so I could stimulate his prostate with my fingertip.

 

“Aaaugh,” he almost wailed when I grazed the sensitive gland.  His hands reached out for me, grabbing my head. He pulled my face to his and opened his mouth wide, beckoning my tongue to enter him as my cock and fingers were.  I obliged willingly, sweeping his mouth; our tongues moved together passionately.  I hadn’t yet started to pull out of him, but my finger was still gently massaging his male g-spot, and he broke the kiss, his body shuddering as he begged me not to make him come yet.

 

“I want you to come for me, sweet boy,” I urged him.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make you come again.”  He was lost to his pleasure then, his moans becoming a high keening sound as he exploded.  Fuck, he wasn’t even touching his cock and he shot his load all over his belly and mine.  He pulled my face to his again, kissing me, wailing into my mouth.

 

When he had come down from his orgasmic high, he went limp on the bed, his arms and legs collapsing beside him.  His mouth hung open and his breathing came in shallow gasps.  Not wanting him to lose the high, I withdrew my finger from him and lay down, placing my weight against the length of his body.  I began to gently suck his nipples, alternating from one to the other.  Once every thirty seconds or so, I would pull my hips up, withdrawing as far as the head of my cock before sinking into him again. 

 

After several moments, he slid his arms under mine so he could wrap them around my waist.  “Fuuuuuck,” he drawled slowly, his post-orgasmic endorphins dropping him into slow motion.  “It felt like you were splitting me in two…and then…I exploded,” he explained simply, trying to name what he’d experienced. 

 

“Fucking incredible, isn’t it?” I murmured, and he nodded, pressing his face into my hand as it stroked his cheek. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, finally opening his eyes to look at me. 

 

“The pleasure was mine,” I replied.

 

He laughed quietly.  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I have to disagree with you there.” 

 

“No, it’s true,” I insisted.  “I could watch you come over and over again - it’s fucking mesmerizing.” 

 

He shifted underneath me and I could feel his cock pressing into me, still an iron bar. My own hard cock was still captured in his satin grip and when he moved it sent shocks of pleasure through me.  I groaned and rested my head on his shoulder, turning my face into his neck.  He pressed his hips down into the bed, causing me to withdraw slightly, then pushed back towards me.  Wordlessly, he was telling me what he wanted.  He was ready to fuck. 

 

 

 

For an eternity after our climax we did not move, except when I pulled out of Jacey’s ass and tugged the blanket up over us.  Otherwise, we remained where we were, completely spent, and there we fell asleep, enmeshed. 

 

-o-

 

In the morning I ordered room service for us and we ate in bed, talking and getting to know each other a bit better.  There was nothing sexual about it, but it was very intimate – just the two of us, existing inside a bubble.  I’d had the presence of mind, last night, to hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door so I knew we wouldn’t be interrupted by Kathleen and Ashton.  As the morning passed we eventually lapsed into silence, stretched out side-by-side on the bed - not touching, but somehow still connected. 

 

At last Jacey broke the silence.  “What time do you have to be at the airport?” 

 

“My flight leaves at four,” I replied, “and I have to check out of the hotel by noon.” 

 

“I guess we probably won’t see each other again,” he mused slowly. 

 

The thought of walking away today and never seeing him again caused something in me to start to ache. I didn’t understand why, but I had a strong sense that if I closed this door forever I would regret it.  “I’ll…give you my card?” I suggested lamely.  “We can keep in touch. And…if you ever come to Seattle, well…”

 

“Yeah,” he replied, the sadness in his voice suggesting that he didn’t believe he would ever find himself in Seattle.  “Do you mind if I take a shower before I go?”

 

 

When he was dressed he took the business card, leaving the twenties on the table.  “This is for you too,” I said, but he shook his head. 

 

“No thanks,” he said stiffly, to my confusion. Had I done something to offend him?

 

I stepped to him, sliding my arms around his waist.  “Jacey,” I asked, “what? Are you okay?”

 

“I don’t want money,” he said with a scowl, though he didn’t look at my face. 

 

“The money isn’t for you,” I replied.  “It’s for cab fare.” 

 

“That’s a bit much for cab fare,” he grumbled. 

 

“It’s a tip,” I murmured, “to make sure the driver realizes he’s conveying something precious.  It’s the same tip I gave the driver Friday night when you left.”

 

His eyes finally snapped to mine.  “You paid that much,” he gaped, “in advance?”

 

“Like I said, I wanted to make sure the driver knew that he was carrying precious cargo.”  He continued to stare at me for a long moment, then threw his arms around my neck and kissed me.  I kissed him back, deeply, relishing the feel of his mouth against mine. I knew I may not feel this again for a long time – maybe never. What I couldn’t reconcile in my mind was how I’d become so attached to him so quickly.  Was it just the sex – the fact that we had great chemistry and had spent two nights together? Or was there a possibility of something deeper?

 

As though reading my mind, he shook his head, saying, “This is crazy.  I scared I’ll never see you again, and I don’t understand why I’m scared.” 

 

I stroked his face.  “You have my card – use it,” I urged him. “We’ll stay in touch, and if there’s any possibility of getting together, we’ll meet somewhere – anywhere. I promise.” 

 

Silence fell upon us again – neither wanted to be the one to initiate our final separation.  Eventually, though, I knew I had to get my ass in gear to get ready to return to Seattle.  “I hate to say this, but…”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “I know.” He gave me a final squeeze and a chaste kiss on the lips, and then we released each other.  He picked up the money from the sideboard and I nodded. 

 

“Precious,” I reminded him.  He smiled softly, then, turning quickly to the door, he was gone. 

 

I sighed, returning to my preparations for departure.  Less than thirty seconds later, there was a knock on the door.  I wondered what Jacey had forgotten, but when I opened it, instead of Jacey there stood Ashton. 

 

“Morning,” he said with a grin. 

 

“Hey,” I said. “Morning.”

 

“Have a pleasant evening?” he continued, his face betraying nothing. 

 

“Yeah,” I replied, remembering that I’d told him I intended to go right to bed after we got home.  “Uh, you know – quiet.” 

 

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at me, a smile playing about his face.  “Quiet?  Hmm. So you and the guy who just left your room – what, did you play Scrabble all night?”

 

I grimaced. Busted.  Ashton nodded, finally allowing himself to break into a wide grin.  “Jesus, bro, you don’t have to lie to me,” he said.  “It’s not like I’ve never gone out and picked up a one-night stand.”

 

“Right,” I said.  A one-night stand. 

 

“So listen, I know we’re not on the same flight – and you should thank your lucky stars, by the way, because Kathleen wants to talk wedding stuff, and I’m sure she would take advantage of having you captive at 39,000 feet today.  Anyways – do you think you could get together with us and Rachel one night this week?” 

 

“Rachel?” I repeated blankly. 

 

“Oh, yeah,” he said.  “Kathleen asked Rachel to be her maid of honor.”

 

“Oh, right.”

 

“At least she didn’t ask Eve,” he grinned, knowing I found Eve’s over-the-top personality somewhat grating.  _An assault on the senses_ was my usual opinion of her. 

 

I felt myself beginning to tense as he talked about their wedding in such concrete terms.  I’d had a hell of a weekend, between travelling and finding out Ashton’s news and meeting Jacey and then having to say goodbye to Jacey…I was feeling shredded, and entirely unequal to sitting around discussing fucking wedding plans.

 

“Yeah, sorry, man,” I replied, “you know what weeknights are like for me.” 

 

“Of course,” he said.  “I told Kathleen I’d ask.”

 

So this was what life would be like from now on. Ashton knew me; he knew probably better than anyone that I didn’t make social plans on weeknights because of the demands of my job. Yet here he was, asking me to get together to discuss fucking wedding plans on a weeknight. 

 

With that, the decision was made. Preservation instinct won. 

 

“We should get together to talk, though,” I said, “because I have some big changes coming up myself.”

 

“Really? This is the weekend for it, I guess,” he grinned.  “What’s up?”

 

“Well, my plans aren’t definite yet, but I’m pretty sure I’m moving.”

 

“Cool!” he said.  “Are you buying a place of your own?”

 

“Not exactly,” I said.  I took a deep breath, steeling myself for his reaction.  “I’ve decided I need a change.  I’m leaving Seattle.”

 

“Leaving Seattle…?” he said blankly.  “Where are you going?”

 

“I think,” I said slowly, “…Chicago.”


	2. Prologue 2 - Meet Me in Chicago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jack goes to Chicago for a job interview one January weekend, Jacey meets him there. The ensuing heat nearly melts the ice from Lake Michigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as an outtake after the Deep Dish serial had begun to be posted, this takes place after Jack and Jacey met but before Jack moves to Chicago.

_Jack_

 

I stand waiting, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other. The monitors throughout the terminal tell me that the flight has landed. I’m waiting at the baggage claim area, the easiest place for us both to find. Soon the passengers will begin to emerge from the restricted area, and among them will be Jacey.

 

Anxiously I tap my foot. It’s been nearly three months since I saw him, and until a week ago, I didn’t believe I’d see him again at all. I’m glad he called. So seldom do I experience any real chemistry with a hookup, the kind that still has me thinking about him weeks later. The fact that he lives so far away doesn’t bother me. We’re not dating, we’re just...getting together. 

 

The first few people are showing up at baggage claim now to find their luggage. I keep watching intently for a glimpse of Jacey’s brown hair, and finally I catch it. I can only see the top of his head, but I’m certain it’s him. The airport lights glisten off his shiny, soft hair. Finally the crowds around him shift, and I can see without a doubt that it’s him. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face at the sight of him. His eyes scan the crowd, searching for me. After a few seconds, he finds me and his face lights up in a brilliant smile. 

 

We quickly close the gap towards each other, stopping with about two feet left between us. Our chemistry is so intense, the air fairly crackles. We stand that way for several beats, just looking at each other, before he drops his bag on the floor and launches himself into my arms. And then – bliss. His lips meet mine and I’m startled by how good and how right it feels to have him in my arms. The deep plushness of his lips wasn’t a figment of my imagination and my memory didn’t exaggerate them. If anything, it didn’t do them justice. His soft full mouth caresses mine once, twice, a third time, before he tucks his face into the side of my neck. We hold each other like that for a few moments and I inhale his scent, my cock twitching at the renewed memory. After I notice that we’re drawing looks, I whisper to him, “Hey, sweet boy. Let’s get out of here.” He sighs and we step apart. 

 

We make our way out of the airport to my rental car, me carrying his carry-on and him with a duffel bag. About halfway through the airport he reaches out to take my hand. It’s a surprise, but not unwelcome. I look at him and he smiles a half smile, wordlessly asking if it’s okay. I smile back in reassurance. Driving back to the hotel, he tells me about his flight, the grating blustery man he sat next to and the teenage girls across the aisle who kept sneaking looks at him and giggling. I grin as he expresses his annoyance. “You’re just going to have to learn to deal with the fact that you’re beautiful,” I tell him, reaching out to stroke the back of his hand as it lies in his lap.

 

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes, but I can see him grin as he looks out the window. We pull into the hotel parking garage and find a parking space reasonably close to the elevator. After I shut off the car, I turn to him, putting my hand over his as he is about to unlatch his seatbelt. 

 

“Jacey,” I tell him, “Learn to take a compliment.” I lean in, seeking those mouth-watering lips. His breath catches sharply and his free hand comes up to the back of my neck. The kiss becomes deeper and more passionate. Though in the back of my head I know it’s not exactly first-class behavior to sit here necking in the car, I can’t seem to bring myself to care until he groans deeply, his hand slipping down to squeeze my hardening cock. 

 

“Oh my god,” I gasp, pulling away. “Jacey, the hotel room has a very nice bed. Let’s at least make it inside before we get off.” 

 

He bursts into laughter and I join him, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation – two adults making out like teenagers in a car. I lean my head back against the headrest and breathe, waiting for my hard-on to subside; Jacey does the same. When I’m ready, I turn to him. “Okay – think we can walk without attacking each other?” 

 

He closes his eyes, his head still against the headrest, and laughs again. “Worth a shot,” he replies. 

 

We get out of the car, grab his bags and head upstairs to the room. It’s a nice hotel and our room is on the 20th floor, giving us a decent view. Jacey hangs his coat up and strolls to the window to look out. I stand back for a few moments, watching him gaze out at the city, grateful that he’s here, that he called me when he did.  If he’d called later we might not have had time to make these arrangements. After watching him for a few moments I have to have my hands on him. I come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his shoulder and looking out at the city with him. 

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper to him. He turns to face me, humming his agreement. We keep our arms wrapped around each other, his around my neck and mine around his waist. 

 

“Me too,” he murmurs. “It’s so good to see you again, Jack. I thought this might be…awkward or something…I don’t know.”

 

“No, I know what you mean,” I reply. “I worried too. But it doesn’t have to be awkward.” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “It doesn’t have to be anything we don’t want it to be, Jacey.”

 

He smiles and stretches upward to kiss me. My hard-on is back almost instantly. I’m a healthy guy, virile, you might say, but as healthy as my sexual response has been in the past, I’ve never responded to anyone as I do to him. I’ve never been so hard, so aroused…I’ve never ached before. There’s never been anyone whom I desired as more than a fuck, no one about whom I said, “I can’t wait to be with him again.” Jacey seems to know every inch of me as though he took a course called The Physiology of Jack Charles – every sweet spot, any place he could find that would make my toes curl, he’s there. But it’s more than that, even. Somehow I feel connected to him in more places than just fucking. It’s a bit scary, to be honest. I don’t know exactly what it means. 

 

I am sure as hell willing to find out.

 

His hands come up to loosen my tie, which I’m still wearing from this morning’s interview. In not many moments, we’ve lost most of our clothes and are climbing onto the bed in only our underwear. I start to push him down on the bed, but he switches our positions. “Let me suck you,” he whispers hoarsely. I sink back onto the pillows and lift my hips so he can pull down my briefs. “Fuck,” he swears almost inaudibly as my rigid cock is bared before him. He sinks down onto his chest and goes down on me. 

 

His hot wet mouth wraps around my cock and I gasp at the immediate rush of intense pleasure. He hums around me, the vibrations travelling the length of my cock into my balls. The tingles make my hips jump off the bed and I cry out involuntarily. His hand wraps around my balls, tugging gently. The suction of his mouth increases and fuck if I’m not ready to come already. “Oh god, Jacey – slow down,” I pant. Without releasing me, he shakes his head and gently massages my balls. “Fuck!” I shout before exploding into his mouth. My toes curl and my hands clench and flex as the spasms of bliss ricochet throughout my body. The sounds that fill the air are barely recognizable as coming from me. 

 

His hand releases my balls and pumps my cock a few times, milking the last drops of jizz from me. When my peak finally releases me, I relax my body and let the softness of the bed cradle me. He crawls up to hover over me, his knees on either side of my hips, and kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, before lowering himself to lie atop me. He nestles his face into my neck and kisses it as I catch my breath.

 

“Fuuuuuuck.” I exhale deeply, stretching the word out into an extended syllable. Jacey lifts his head to kiss my face, but I capture his lips and probe his mouth with my tongue. He groans and pushes his underwear-covered hips into my stomach. I roll us both over so that he’s underneath me. Straddling his body, I move down to kiss his neck and his collarbone. I suck his nipples and tongue his smooth young abs. He’s already writhing by the time I get to the waistband of his briefs. After I slide them off to uncover his gorgeous hard cock, I pause for a moment, simply enjoying the beauty of his nubile body. He squirms, waiting impatiently before pleading. 

 

“Jack,” he whispers urgently.  “Please touch me.” I grasp him gently and slowly stroke up and down his length a few times, occasionally grazing my hand over the smooth, shiny head. “Uhhhh,” he groans, prompting me to lean forward and lick the head like a lollipop, swirling my tongue around it.  His vocalizations are like the sexiest music, setting the tempo for this hot, sweaty tango. My cock is rock-hard again – fuck, it barely softened after Jacey sucked me off.

 

His body is tensing and his hands are balled into fists at his sides. I know he’s getting close. Quickly I have to decide whether to bring him off this way or to ease off so I can fuck him. I stop, releasing him from my mouth and hands. I move back up his body and lie on top of him so that I can suck his nipples. “Please…please, Jack…please…” he begs over and over, though never quite making it to the part where he names what he’s asking for. 

 

I slide farther up his body to kiss his mouth. Our cocks are trapped between us, iron bars caught between bodies that are drawn together as undeniably as two magnets. Our sweaty bodies writhe together as our tongues probe deeply into each other’s mouths. Eventually I can no longer deny either of us what we want. I dig a condom and lube out of my shaving kit and put on the rubber. After lubing both of us, I roll Jacey onto his stomach. Hovering over him, I kiss his shoulder and whisper, “Ready for me, sweet boy?” 

 

“God, yes,” he groans. With that assent, I enter him. He moans, slowly at first, but growing in depth and volume as I push ahead, until it reaches almost a fever pitch when I am fully inside him. “Oh fuck, stop,” he begs. 

 

I still immediately. “Did I hurt you?” I ask, concerned. 

 

“No,” he pants. “Definitely not. Just wait a sec.”

 

“Okay,” I grin, and lean down to kiss his back between his shoulder blades, waiting until he masters his arousal. Several minutes pass before he relaxes and pushes back into me. Slowly I begin to thrust in and out, feeling the tight hot depth that grips me. The room is filled with the sounds of our mutual pleasure. His head is resting on the bed, turned to one side. I can watch the expressions on his beautiful face as I fuck his gorgeous ass. His eyes are closed, his lips parted slightly. His look is one of absolute rapture. Each time I press into him his expression tightens just a bit, relaxing when I pull back. 

 

Lowering my upper body so that our lengths are flush with each other, I hook my hands under his shoulders and lie my cheek against the back of his neck. “You’re so fucking tight, Jacey,” I murmur into his ear, the strain of my arousal roughening my voice. “You’re so hot, so tight…you take my cock so well.” He moans. “Such a sweet boy…love fucking your beautiful ass…” His face is no longer returning to its slack expression now – his eyes are clamped shut, his mouth open as he is approaching the point of no return. I bring one hand down from his shoulders to slide it in under his hips so I can hold his cock.

 

“Fuck…Jack…” he groans. “Oh my god…I’m going to come…” 

 

“I’m almost there, sweet boy,” I tell him.  “Hold off if you can, let me come with you.”

 

He wails, then clamps his teeth down on his lower lip. Low moans augment his look of concentration as he attempts to stave off the inevitable. I speed up my thrusts, needing just a bit more stimulation before we can come together. He pulls my hand away from his cock, placing it back on the front of his shoulder where it braces me against him, increasing my leverage to thrust into him. Suddenly, my orgasm is upon me, and I urge, “Fuck, I’m there – come with me!” 

 

His moans explode into a shout as we shatter together. He pushes back toward me and I come so hard that stars dance before my eyes. Beneath me, he lifts his head, turning his face to me, seeking my lips. I immediately open to him, welcoming his tongue into my mouth. He groans, the sound muffled and absorbed into me, echoed back in my own deep moans.  I’ve been with more than my fair share of guys and thoroughly enjoyed the sex I’ve had, but I had no idea I could feel something so potent, so intense.

 

After we’re both spent I roll off Jacey and flop beside him on the bed. He unwillingly hauls himself up just long enough to grab a towel to clean his jizz off the sheet, then collapses beside me. He heaves a huge sigh of contentment and I open my arms to him, pulling him close in to my chest. 

 

“I’m so glad you called me, Jacey,” I murmur into the top of his head. 

 

“I almost didn’t,” he replies quietly. “I didn’t know if you were just being nice when you gave me your card, or…if you felt bad because of the money thing...”

 

“None of the above,” I reply with conviction. 

 

“I haven’t been…” Here he stops as though rethinking what he wants to say. I wait patiently for him to work it out. After a long pause he simply says, “I’m glad I called, too.” 

 

I kiss the top of his head, stroking his soft brown locks. He clasps me more tightly, moving in even closer, and we lapse into silence before gradually drifting off to a sweet, contented slumber. 

 

-o-

 

The rest of the weekend is split between completing the other errands I wanted out of this weekend – looking at neighborhoods, finding an apartment – and doing solely touristy things with Jacey. He’s never been to Chicago. We take the time to go up Willis Tower, formerly the Sears Tower, and look down at the thousands below, scurrying around to whatever important places they have to go.  We head to Boystown, a neighborhood in the Lakeview area, to look at a few apartments. I am all but assured of getting the job and I have found several landlords who are, for a small deposit, willing to hold the apartment for a few days until I know for sure that the job is mine. 

 

Of the five apartments we see, there are two I like and one that Jacey absolutely loves. I’m having a difficult time deciding between them until Jacey points out the proximity of the vegetarian restaurant to the one on Roscoe – also conveniently the apartment he likes.  His real reason for loving it – the architecture of the building’s façade - is pretty irrelevant to me. Fortunately he also mentions that it’s a quick walk to the L and the other neighborhood conveniences. Soon my decision is made in favor of the pretty building on Roscoe, to my satisfaction and Jacey’s delight.

 

We also do a lot of talking, particularly over meals. Jacey asks me what prompted my decision to move here, and with minimal encouragement I find myself opening up. I am very honest with him, and I find it a much-needed catharsis. As for why I can tell him what I can’t tell anyone else, I can only assume that it’s because he’s a virtual stranger. He doesn’t know Ashton or Kathleen, or any of the other people in my life – he’s not going to judge me or try to tell me it’s no reason to move halfway across the country. He listens without judgment, occasionally reaching out to caress my fingers and eventually holding my hand in both of his. After the conversation, I feel lighter, grateful to Jacey, my empathetic confidante.

 

Saturday night after dinner we debate whether to go to a club, ultimately deciding against it in favor of staying in.  Jacey is relaxed and looking quite blissed out when he suggests I sit down in the armchair in the corner of the hotel room.  He opens his laptop and opens iTunes; in a moment a slow, sultry song flows from the laptop speakers.  He turns off all the lights in the room and opens the curtains.  Standing in front of the window, he begins a slow, deliberate dance, gradually removing his clothing.  His slender frame is backlit by the city skyline, and I gaze appreciatively as his profile while he gyrates deliberately closer to me.  When he turns sideways and slides down his briefs, his body silhouetted in the dim light from the window, his cock stands confidently erect.  His slim hips sway slowly, side to side, then in a gentle circular thrusting motion. He runs his hands across his smooth chest, fingertips grazing his nipples, down over his abs to frame the soft curls nestled around his cock. Standing close he turns his ass to me and uses his hands to squeeze and knead it. It looks so fucking delectable, like a smooth, round peach inches away from my mouth. I can’t stop my hands from reaching out to join his, and my teeth aren’t far behind, sinking into a soft nip of the sensitive flesh. 

 

He hums at the feel of my teeth, then slides down into my lap. His completely naked body is now writhing against my clothed one, and my hands travel up the front of him to his nipples. He groans loudly when I pinch and twist them, jumping up and turning to face me before climbing into my lap again. His bare, engorged cock presses against mine, still contained in my slacks. He leans forward and his soft lips find my neck, nibbling from my collar to my jaw and back again then moving to the other side. I grasp his hips and thrust against him, rubbing, pressing, needing. His hands undo the buttons on my shirt and pull the shirttail out, then he slides it off my shoulders and tosses it on the floor. He kisses my chest as he unbuckles my belt and opens my pants. 

 

Gently lifting him from me I stand and let my pants fall, pushing my briefs down after them. Now as naked as Jacey, I slide my hands around his waist to his low back, holding him close. Slowly we move together in a sensual, lust-filled dance. Each time our hips sway his cock brushes mine, mirroring the soft brushes of our lips against each other. His tongue traces my mouth before sliding between my lips to find mine. As we kiss I slowly back him to the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows that line one wall. He hisses when his ass touches the cold glass. 

 

“Turn around,” I whisper, and he spins to face the cityscape before us, placing his hands on the glass to brace himself as I spread his legs further apart. I pull the lube from my bag and liberally coat my fingers. Jacey sighs when I kneel behind him and slip one fingertip into his opening, relaxing into the sensation of me massaging the taut pucker flesh. A second finger brings rumbles from deep in his throat. My fingers slide in and out and he squirms at my touch.

 

He whimpers, “Uhhhh, Jack.”

 

“What, sweet boy?” I ask, enjoying that he’s more expressive than usual, hoping he’ll tell me what he wants. 

 

“I love your fingers…your mouth…your cock…”

 

“My cock…” I repeat, encouraging him to continue. 

 

“I want it,” he murmurs. “I want it in my ass, stretching me out and fucking me deep.”

 

An involuntary groan leaves my lips at his request, as dirty and as hot as I could ask for. I withdraw my fingers from him in order to roll on a condom and some more lube. His head falls to his chest as he waits for me to enter him, only to rise again when I gradually press my turgid length into him, sliding past the resistance and into the warmth of his tight depth. Once I am in, I lean against his back and place my hands on the glass beside his. I kiss the back of his neck and his shoulder while I wait to be certain that his velvet embrace has adjusted. He turns his head, looking over his shoulder and we kiss, tongues reaching out to meet until he rocks his hips forward and back, bit by bit. 

 

“Fuck…Jack…” he whispers. 

 

“It’s so good, sweet boy,” I murmur in reply. “So good…hot…luscious…” I punctuate each slow plunge with a different adjective, all the superlatives that swirl in my head when I think of sex with Jacey. 

 

For his part, Jacey twists and writhes with me, his hips moving to meet every thrust. I love to hear him, his moans and whimpers while I’m claiming him. I pull my hand away from the cold window and wrap it around his blisteringly hot cock. The surprise and reaction from him is powerful – he cries out and bucks into my hand. Reaching his own hands behind my neck, he pulls me close to him and swears, “Uhhh…Jack…you’re gonna make me come…”

 

“I want to hear you,” I whisper hoarsely. “I want to _feel_ you come so hard on my cock that you take me with you. I want you to say my name, sweet boy.” He continues to thrust into the hand that swaths his cock, tugging on my stiff length every time he pulls away from me. I breathe deeply, trying to hold out as long as I can, but with him I seem to be just _right there_ all the time. His sounds are a near-constant babble now, and he drops his head back onto my shoulder just as his snug opening begins to spasm around me. 

 

“Aaah,” he shouts. “Uh…Jack…” Feeling and hearing his climax burns through my  last shred of control. I am with him, dropping his cock as it still jets his hot cum against the window, grabbing his hips and plunging deep into him repeatedly. I cry his name, too, as the paroxysms of heaven continually seize and release every cell of my being. Even after the ecstasy has ebbed, I don’t want to let him go, don’t want to pull out of him, though my softening cock will eventually leave me without a choice. I finally grasp the condom and slowly withdraw, feeling the tight round muscle caress me one final time.

 

Jacey exhales as I leave him. “Stay there for a sec,” I whisper, quickly ditching the condom and wiping up. Returning to him, I clean him up as well, and wipe the spates of his jizz from the window. I turn him to me and pick him up; he wraps his legs around my waist for the short trip from the window to the bed. I gently lie him down, then after a quick trip to the bathroom, I climb into bed with him. 

 

Rather than pulling him into my arms, I slide into his, lying my head in the soft spot above his now-slack pectoral muscle. He is the one to wrap his arms around me, kissing my head between us murmuring thanks and endearments to each other.

 

Soon his breathing slows to normal and after along moments of silence he whispers, “I missed this, Jack. I missed _you_.”

 

I kiss his damp skin. “I missed you too.”

 

“Can we…” he begins, then stops.

 

I lift my chin looking up at him. “Can we what?”

 

He sighs.  “Can we make an agreement that we don’t go this long again? Without at least talking on the phone, or…whatever? Because leaving you once was bad enough, when I barely knew you at all. But now…” he hesitates again. “Now I know you better than I did. I know I didn’t imagine what happened in October. This…chemistry…the draw we have to each other, the fire…it’s real, isn’t it. It’s not just me feeling it.”

 

“It’s not just you,” I acknowledge quietly, burying my face in his chest and placing a kiss on the smooth plane of his pec.

 

He kisses the top of my head, allowing the weight of my admission to settle. “I’m not asking for commitment, or exclusivity or anything like that…but I think…after what we’ve shared this weekend, not just the sex, but the conversations…I think we’re friends now.”

 

“I want to be,” I reply before adding, “There were a lot of times after the weekend in Austin that I would have picked up the phone or sent you an email or something, if I’d known how or where to reach you…”

 

“I was halfway home before it occurred to me that I hadn’t left you any way to get in touch with me,” he says regretfully, “leaving the ball entirely in my court – a complete neophyte who didn’t even know if you wanted to hear from me again or not.”

 

“Let me say again how glad I am that you called,” I say, lifting myself up onto the pillow and opening my arms so he can now snuggle up to me. He does so with a deep sigh of contentment.

 

“Good night, Jack,” he mumbles sleepily. 

 

“Good night, sweet Jacey,” I whisper.

 

Very soon his breathing becomes deep and rhythmic, and as he slips deeper into sleep he begins to make a very quiet murmuring noise on the exhale. It’s childlike and endearing, and the sweetness of it washes over me, lulling me to restful sleep. 


	3. Chapter 1 - Transplant

 

 **deep dish:**  a pizza style developed in Chicago in 1943, characterized by a crust that is up to three inches tall at the edge

 

**deep:** (adjective) heartfelt; sincere; absorbing; engrossing; intense; profound; dark and vivid.  
  
---  
  
 

 **dish:** (British, slang) a sexually attractive person of either sex.

 

  **-o-  
**

 

_Jack_

It’s the flyer that catches my eye, the bright white sheet that lies out of place, in the middle of the wood floor just inside the door of my new apartment.

 

I step carefully over it, not wishing to slip and fall as I carry a large box full of breakables.  When I’ve set the box on the kitchen counter, I walk back through the empty apartment to the front door.  My steps echo off the bare walls and floors, reminding me that I’m alone – not just alone in the apartment, but alone in the city, alone in the world.

 

Alone in my life.

 

I stoop to pick up the flyer.  _Best pizza in the city_ , it screams.  _Authentic Chicago Deep Dish_. 

 

I sigh wearily; my life might be on its ear, but some things – like junk mail – never change.  I don’t know whether to be comforted or offended.

 

I decide that until I’ve brought up the rest of my luggage and boxes from my car, I can afford the luxury of neither.  Over the next hour, I make several trips up and down the stairs, bringing up the items I decided to bring in my car instead of sending them with the moving company.  I’m tired out from driving for three days, ten hours a day; and my furniture isn’t arriving until tomorrow.  With me I’ve brought an air mattress, intending to inflate it and camp out on the floor for the night; but my body is stiff and sore.  An air mattress is among the least inviting options I can think of, right up there with a bed of nails.

 

I waffle between toughing it out or allowing myself some comfort.  Comfort wins out and after I unpack the few boxes I have with me, I’m on the way to a comfortable hotel, where I’ll have 500-thread-count sheets and room service.  I’m lucky – it’s a Sunday night and I’m able to get a decent room without a reservation. After I’ve called the moving company’s driver to let them know I won’t be staying at the apartment overnight after all, I sink into a hot bath – not having brought my swim suit, I can’t take advantage of the hotel’s Jacuzzi – and soak away my stiff muscles.  I stayed in hotels during the trip, but nothing fancy.  Reasoning that I was only there to crash, I looked for hotels that were clean and utilitarian.  But tonight, this is much-needed...and it’s heaven. 

 

I order from the room service menu, opting for the veggie burger and fries and rolling my eyes at the $20 price tag.  An hour later, I’m full, tired, and ready to stretch out and watch TV for a while before bed. 

 

Being Sunday night, of course, there’s absolutely nothing on, unless I want to watch the E! True Hollywood Story on Sonny and Cher.  Not so much.  I wish I brought my book from the car, but I won’t bother going down to get it now.  Instead I turn off the TV and roll over onto my stomach, stretching out in bed.  I should be nodding off almost right away; instead, my mind won’t settle.  I keep thinking about the last four months of my life, how much has changed...the things I _could_ change, at least.

 

It’s late February now; Ashton and Kathleen got married eight days ago.  Because they had such a short engagement, only four months, I stayed in Seattle until after their wedding.  There was no way I could escape being Ashton’s best man – nor did I really want to escape it.  I also wasn’t going to attempt to pull some half-assed best man duty from halfway across the country.  So, as they were counting the days to I Do, I was counting down to I’m Outta Here. 

 

I grimace as my mind wanders back to the conversation I had with Ashton the morning after he and Kathleen told me they were getting married.  We were all in Austin that weekend for Jasper and Edward’s wedding.  Ashton and I were in my hotel room. He’d stopped by as I was packing up for my flight back to Seattle, and the conversation led to me telling him I was leaving.

 

_“Well, my plans aren’t definite yet; but I’m pretty sure I’m moving.”_

_“Cool!” he said.  “Are you buying a place of your own?”_

_“Not exactly,” I said.  I took a deep breath, steeling myself for his reaction.  “I’ve decided I need a change.  I’m leaving Seattle.”_

_“Leaving Seattle…?” he said blankly.  “Where are you going?”_

_“I think,” I said slowly, “…Chicago.”_

_He was completely silent…motionless, even…for long seconds, before sucking in a deep breath.  “What are you talking about?”_

_“I’m going to look at jobs in Chicago, and if I can find something I like, I’m going to take it,” I replied._

_“How long have you been thinking about this?” he asked quietly._

_“A while,” I hedged, not adding that I’d been thinking about it only since he’d announced his engagement the night before._

_“Well, there you go”, he said. There was a long pause as we each looked anywhere but at each other.  “I’m getting married, and you’re moving two thousand miles away.”_

_I didn’t answer, looking at the floor.  He was pacing the room now and I sat silently as my best friend came unglued before me. “It’s been you and me, Jack, since our freshman year.  You’re my best friend – and you’re leaving Seattle?” He was becoming upset, his voice escalating in both pitch and in volume as the reality set in.  “I can’t believe you’re not going to be a part of my life anymore! Kathleen and I will have kids and you should be their Uncle Jack. Now they’ll barely know you!” I winced, and he noticed.  “Have you really thought about everything you’re leaving behind here?”_

_“I’ve weighed it all, Ashton,” I assured him.  The last thing I wanted to do was confess that I simply couldn’t have a front-row seat to his happy life with Kathleen any longer._

_“I’m not satisfied with my life here anymore,” I said, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I feel restless, like I’m stagnating.   I want something new.”_

_“You’re restless,” he repeated, clearly hurt despite my efforts to be kind.  “Well, isn’t that a kick in the ass.  Easy come, easy go, I guess.”_

_“Now, wait a minute.  My friendship with you and Jasper and Edward, are the only things that really gave me pause when I was considering this,” I contradicted. “So don’t tell me that your friendship doesn’t mean the same thing to me that it did yesterday – that’s unfair.”_

_“No, you know what’s unfair? My best friend told me last night that he’d be by my side when I got married, and this morning he dropped a bomb that he’s moving two thousand miles away.”  I didn’t bother to argue, knowing that there was nothing I could say to improve the situation, and anything I did say while he was upset would only inflame it more._

_“Good luck, Jack,” he said bitterly.  “Good luck with the move and Chicago.  Enjoy the snow.” With that he left the room, closing the door loudly behind him._

_I wanted to throw myself down on the bed and scream, but I was becoming seriously short on time to pack and get to the airport and I hadn’t showered yet. I forced myself to work quickly, taking a quick rinse-off and throwing everything into my luggage before checking out and driving my rental car back to the airport.  Once I was on the airplane I finally allowed myself to process the conversation. I lay my head back against the seat and stared out the window at the airport crew working as I thought about my friendship with Ashton.  We had both gone to Harvard, each having uprooted ourselves from California to head to Massachusetts. We ended up the only two Californians in our dorm in freshman year.  We bonded over our mutual distaste for all things cold and white and quickly became best friends.  In our sophomore year we roomed together, and as we were both into outdoor sports in California we made a pact that we would at least try the winter sports that weren’t afforded us back home.  Sledding and skiing quickly became our favorites, and on Sundays you could always find us hitting the slopes of one of the many ski resorts within a 2-hour drive from Boston._

_After college we sought out jobs that were closer to home, bound and determined that we would be in the same city.  I located my job first, at a brokerage firm in Seattle; and within a week Ashton had landed his job as well.   We remained best friends, in spite of our differences, or perhaps because of them._

_Ashton had always been friendly and outgoing, but in a soft-spoken, gentle way.  He immediately made people feel at ease, which I admired tremendously. I tended to be more taciturn, and definitely did not draw people in.  It was through Ashton that most of my friends had been made, and I’d come to rely on him to break the ice in new friendships. The exception, of course, was when I went out to Spin or XY to find a trick._

_I wasn’t wholly dependent on him, of course. He relied on me, as well, to help him get his finances organized.  He was terrible with numbers – much too mundane for his artistic personality – and eventually asked me to prevent him from writing endless checks to every charitable group around.  He was less discriminating than I was, definitely a sucker for a sad story.  Not that he was gullible by any means, simply that he had a very soft heart.  Organizations that helped children or animals were his particular weakness.  I taught him how to say, “I’m sorry, I’ve already committed my charitable donation for this year to another organization.” I made him practice saying it out loud.  Then I made him stick to it._

_Aside from that, there were so many other things, the intangibles that meant we just got each other:  the quirks I knew I had that didn’t seem to bother him at all; his habits and absent-mindedness that I knew how to work around.  It was everything your relationship with your best friend should be._

_Until shortly after we moved to Seattle, when things changed – for me at least._

_I can’t explain how it happened, or even when.  It was like a gradual, creeping fog, the kind that settles in around you when you’re out for a walk in a field.  You barely notice at first – maybe you’re consumed in your thoughts or watching the ground to be certain you don’t stumble.  The veil is drawn closer and still you are ignorant, until you abruptly realize that you don’t know where you are.  Worse, you can’t find your way back, swathed in the haze that has obscured the path you believed you were following._

_That is to say, one day I looked at Ashton as he sat across the table from me at a restaurant and realized I’d been in love with him for some time.  I couldn’t define when my feelings had changed - only that the attachment was formed, and it was as strong a feeling as I’d ever experienced in my life._

_Of course I didn’t tell him.  I knew Ashton was straight – he had received and turned down enough offers in my presence that he could have had a very active sex life if he’d been a gay man.  No, he was the strongest ally I could have, but straight nonetheless.  There was nothing to be gained if I’d admitted it, and everything to be lost.  He wouldn’t have been threatened but he would have hated the thought of me feeling sad or uncomfortable in his presence – even if neither of those things actually happened.  So I kept it to myself.  Ashton didn’t know, or if he did suspect, he never let on, which was best for both of us._

_Naturally, though, it didn’t make my current decision any easier to explain to him.  After the confrontation in my hotel room I didn’t hear from him for three days until my phone rang on Wednesday evening.  On the line was the person I knew as my best friend – the one who was calm, warm and understanding. He apologized for his emotional reaction to my news; I admitted I’d chosen an absolutely rotten time to tell him.  He told me that he and Kathleen had decided on a relatively short engagement, less than four months. Kathleen didn’t want a large wedding – just something intimate at her parents’ home with only closest friends and family.  They’d be doing it the weekend before Valentine’s Day._

_“I know I was an ass to you on Sunday,” Ashton said, “and I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind, but…I’m hoping you’ll still be my best man?”_

_“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me to,” I admitted.  “I’d be honored to stand with you.”_

_“Good,” he said with a sigh of relief.  “I couldn’t do this without you, Jack.”_

_I gulped, knowing he couldn’t understand the full weight those words had on me. I replied, “Since it’s such a short engagement, I won’t go anywhere before the wedding. I haven’t even started looking for a job yet - chances are I wouldn’t get anything right away anyways.  I’ll give it till mid-December to start looking, with a view to moving mid-February or later.”_

_He thanked me, replying, “You don’t have to do that…but I’m really, really glad you are.”_

_“Hey, I have to take advantage while I can,” I said, only half-teasing.  “Soon you’ll be an old married man.”_

_“Can’t wait,” he said, quite seriously._

_The months leading up to the wedding were busy for everyone.  For Ashton and especially Kathleen, they were in a maelstrom of wedding planning.   I was looking for employment, beginning with contacting the person who’d given me his business card.  He had survived the economic downturn and was doing quite well. He said he didn’t know of any openings at his firm, but that his friend worked at a firm with an incompetent who was inches away from being shit-canned.  I sent my resume and a kickass letter to the supervisor there, and the first week of January I got a call asking me if I’d come for an interview the following week.  Since my interview was on a Friday morning I decided to make a weekend of it.  I booked a hotel and planned to stay till Sunday, figuring I could check out some clubs, look for a place to live…familiarize myself with the city.  Edward had lived there for a couple of years after college. He gave me some tips on clubs and helped me avoid the sketchy neighborhoods._

_Three days before I was to leave for my interview, I got a voicemail at work that nearly knocked me flat._

_“Hi, Jack, this is Jacey…Jacey Dawes? We met in Austin a few months ago.  I hope you don’t mind me calling you...you gave me your card, so I guess it’s okay…um, I’ll give you my number…” After he left the number, he continued softly, “I’ve been thinking about you.  A lot.  I hope to talk to you soon…Bye.”_

_I hadn’t heard from him since that weekend.  Honestly, after three months I figured I wouldn’t.  I’d thought about him, of course. In the rare quiet moments my life allowed me, my thoughts often wandered to Jacey and the two nights we’d spent together in Austin.  He was sweet - not in the cute way…in the “I’ve just tasted the most succulent fruit ever” way.  We’d parted on the understanding that maybe we’d see each other again, if life allowed it.  “You have my card – use it,” I’d urged him.  But for months he didn’t, and I had no way to contact him.  He was a precious remembrance for me, his delicate beauty and soft nature. When I thought about him I had a twinge of disappointment, a wondering what could have been, if life had been in our favor.  I didn’t expect him to call._

_Hearing his voice again in the message gave me a flutter of excitement in my stomach.He sounded just as I remembered, and he wanted me to call him.  I listened to the message several times, saving it before I dialed the number he’d left.  It rang a couple of times before he answered._

_“Hello?” in his soft voice._

_“Hi, it’s Jack,” I replied._

_“Hi Jack,” he said shyly.  “I’m glad you called back.”_

_“It was a surprise to hear your voice,” I said._

_“I wasn’t sure if I should call…” He hesitated._

_“I’m really glad you did,” I said honestly. “I’ve thought about you a lot since that weekend…a few times I wished I had your number.”_

_“I’d have called you sooner but I didn’t know if you’d want me to call just to talk,” he said quietly._

_There was an awkward pause until I said, “So, how have you been?”_

_“Okay,” he replied.  “Just got back to school after winter break.  That’s what made me decide to call you, actually. I had a lot of time to think about you while I was off.”_

_“And what were you thinking about?” I prompted._

_He spoke slowly, haltingly.  “I was thinking about your ice-blue eyes…your hair that’s black as coal…your smooth body…your, um...your cock…”  He paused and I swore I could hear him swallow on the other end of the line before continuing, “The fact that you came back to the bar to find me again, the way you kissed me, the tenderness you showed me, calling me ‘sweet boy’ and telling me I was precious…and how much I’d like to be with you again.”_

_Instantly I was aching for him – not just physically, but desperately wanting to be in his presence again.  “I miss you too,” I said simply.  “I would fly to Austin this weekend just to see you…”_

_“Yeah?” he said, sounding hopeful._

_“But I’m already booked to go to Chicago this weekend,” I continued.  “I have a job interview Friday morning.”_

_“You’re thinking of moving to Chicago?” he said with surprise._

_“Yeah – more than just thinking about it, actually. Actively seeking.  Maybe next weekend, though…” I grimaced, thinking of two weekends in a row spent flying, before the idea struck me. “Yes!” I suddenly exclaimed.  “Meet me in Chicago this weekend, Jacey – what do you think?”_

_He hesitated.  “Um…I’m not sure…I know I can swing the airfare, tickets are cheap, but the hotel…”_

_“I’ve already got the hotel booked,” I assured him.  “And the rest, food and whatever, is on me.”  He was still debating, and I added, “I really want to see you.”_

_He sighed.  “Yes.  I want to see you too.  When are you going?”_

_I told him my plans: I would arrive in Chicago Thursday night and have my interview Friday morning.  He could join me Friday evening and then we’d both fly out Sunday afternoon. That would give us almost 48 hours together.  As much as I’d already been looking forward to the trip to Chicago, now I couldn’t wait._

_After my interview on Friday morning, I headed back to the airport to wait for Jacey’s flight to get in.  The plane was on time and I stood waiting for him to emerge amid the sea of people who flooded from the gate.  Soon I saw his shoulder-length brown hair, half a head taller than many around him, and my whole body tensed in anticipation.  He saw me and his face lit up with a brilliant smile.  Moving towards each other, we closed the gap fairly quickly, stopping with about two feet left between us. The attraction fairly snapped in the air, it was so intense.  We stood that way for several beats, just looking at each other, before he dropped his bag on the floor and launched himself into my arms.  And then...bliss.  His lips met mine and I could have cried with relief at how good and how right it felt to have him in my arms.  His soft full mouth caressed mine once, twice, a third time, before he tucked his face into the side of my neck. We held each other like that for a few moments, stepping apart after I whispered to him that we were drawing looks._

_We had our weekend together and it was a turning point for me, for my life. Acerbity had almost become a disease with me since I’d realized there was no hope with Ashton, but when I was with Jacey I didn’t feel that bitterness.  He made it so damn easy to feel something close to happiness.  I could be unreserved with him. He would listen to me without judgment, sometimes disagreeing but always in his gentle way. And the sex was mind-blowing – as good or better than what I remembered from Austin. I hadn’t been celibate in the interim and I don’t know if Jacey was. I didn’t ask; it didn’t matter. He was the same responsive, passionate boy. After such a long time of feeling that I was out the cold, I was irresistibly drawn to his warmth._

_When we parted at the end of that weekend, we promised each other we wouldn’t let three months go by again without talking to each other.  We now had each other’s various phone numbers, email addresses, Skype and so forth.  What’s more, we had an understanding: without being exclusive, we would try to get together as often as possible.  I knew it would be easier if I got the job in Chicago – the flight was neither as long nor as expensive as it would be to Seattle.  One way or the other, though, I knew it would happen.  I knew we’d see each other.  This thing between us wasn’t just some booty call.  It was more than sex. It was the connection we had – the comfort of being together, the rightness of it.  If it never developed beyond what we had now, it would still be an intensely intimate experience every time I was with him._

My last thoughts before I finally fall asleep are of Jacey, how the last time I was at a hotel in Chicago he was with me, tangled up in my arms. 

 

-o-

 

The next morning I’m up early.  I shower, dress and have breakfast, and I’m at the apartment by eight.  The movers arrive about twenty minutes later; and before noon, all my furniture and boxes have been moved in and the movers have already gone on to their next delivery.  I work pretty steadily for several hours, unpacking the kitchen first; then the bathroom essentials and my clothes. As the afternoon wears on, I realize I’m starving, having ignored lunch altogether.  I throw on my coat and boots and head out into the bright, cold winter day. 

 

When I was looking for apartments, I found others that were just as nice as this one; some were a bit closer to the L, Chicago’s elevated train; some had a bit more space or a small second bedroom.  One of the main features that sold me on this particular apartment was its proximity to a fantastic vegetarian restaurant, Chicago Diner. I was lacto-ovo vegetarian as a teenager and recommitted to it after I finished college.  Recently I added the occasional meal of fish or shellfish – having developed a taste for it when I lived in Boston – but for the most part I’ve stayed lacto-ovo.  It’s challenging, though, since I don’t particularly like to cook, and decent takeout vegetarian isn’t available everywhere.  Knowing that the Diner was half a block from my place sealed it.  I saw myself walking home from the L, stopping in to pick up my dinner and then relaxing at home with it. 

 

After a dinner of the most amazing avocado tostadas, I ask for their takeout menu, and make my way home again.  I know tomorrow I’ll have to do some grocery shopping, but for tonight I just want to go home and relax…and call Jacey.

 

Jacey helped me find this apartment the weekend we were here in Chicago together.  I realized that weekend what a great eye he has for detail – naturally, he’s pursuing a Fine Arts degree in Design – and he was enthralled with the scrollwork around the front door of the building.  I liked it too, of course, but was rather more concerned about the concrete details – the apartment itself, the fact that I could walk to the L in about ten minutes which would take me straight down to my office building, and the building’s proximity to other ‘neighborhood amenities’. As I now walk back to the apartment, though, I realize how many trees line my street and that it will be really beautiful in the summer. 

 

Overall, I’m feeling less alone today. I know I’m living in a vibrant neighborhood, next week I’ll start my new job and possibly prove to myself that I can make friends even without Ashton’s help, and I’ll have Jacey in my life by phone, email and as many visits as we can steal away. 

 

For the first time in a long time, I feel hope.


	4. Chapter 2 - The Lay of the Land

_Jack_

 

I have to admit to being excited. 

 

Most people who’ve met me would say that I simply don’t get worked up about anything, and outwardly at least, that’s often true. I’m reserved. I’m not unfriendly – usually – but I’m just not prone to displays of emotion. I’m also not much for chitchat, particularly among my work colleagues; I’m very big on keeping work and home separate. When I’m at work, I need to be completely engaged in what I’m doing. 

 

Of course, the ones who truly _know_ me would argue something along the lines of “still waters run deep” – a description Kathleen actually used about me once, to my utter mortification (it might not have been so bad if the discussion hadn’t taken place in my presence).  hey know I feel deeply, that I’m tremendously loyal to the few whom I call friends. They know that I draw a definite distinction between friends and acquaintances – and if they know about the distinction, they are keenly aware that they fall on the side of “friend”. And they know that, sometimes, something comes along that is interesting and different enough for me to actually become excited about it.

 

Right now, I can’t deny that what I’m feeling can only be described as excitement. It’s Friday morning, and I’m getting ready to take the train downtown for the first time, to get a sense of how long my ride to work will be, familiarize myself with the area surrounding my office building, that sort of thing. I want to do it this morning – despite the fact that it’s fucking freezing today – because I’m not in a rush. I don’t have to be anywhere, I won’t be running late for anything. Briefly I consider bringing along a box of stuff for my office, to get started organizing it, but ultimately decide against it for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I don’t want to lug around a box when I’m supposed to be figuring out how long it would take me to walk to the train station or move around downtown. Second, I’m not positive that the office is ready for me. My predecessor was let go a couple of weeks ago and they’ve been making do without someone in that position, as I understand it, but that doesn’t mean the physical space is ready to go.

 

I check the thermometer outside my front window one more time before putting on my winter boots, coat, mittens and even a warm winter hat. I have a walk of several blocks from my apartment to the L station, and the way the wind blows off the lake, I don’t want to be frostbitten before I get to the station.

 

Stepping outside, I’m nearly blinded by the glare of the sun sparkling off the high snow banks that flank the street. I pull my sunglasses out of my breast pocket, my face relaxing out of the deep squint once they’re on. It takes me a little more than ten minutes to walk to Belmont Station. The wind is at my back most of the way, but I realize I’m going to have to invest in a pair of long underwear. Perhaps I can get away with not wearing them this winter, since February is nearly over - I’ll be optimistic about an early spring this year. As I walk I pass local businesses, making note of ones I will want or need to visit at some point. Steamworks, a fitness club and bath house, and Spin, a night club, are both places Edward mentioned. 

 

_He pulled me aside privately one night after a group of us had gone out for dinner, and told me about Steamworks, that it was reasonably upscale and clean as the baths go. After checking over his shoulder to see that Jasper was engaged in conversation on the other side of the room, he quietly told me about Spin, which he said was similar to the club by the same name that we frequented in Seattle. I thanked him, but couldn’t help asking why he was being so furtive. He glanced over his shoulder again and said, “Last time I was there was when Jasper and I split up. I did something I’m not proud of.” He paused, swallowing with a pained expression. “Jasper knows what I did - it’s not a secret. But confessing it to him brought him a great deal of pain, and there’s no need to remind him of it.”_

_I nodded sympathetically. They were newlyweds, and as happy as anyone I’d ever met, but I knew it had cost them each a great deal to get to that place. Having known Edward by reputation before his relationship with Jasper, I was constantly impressed and pleased by the tremendous changes that had come about in his life. He truly cherished Jasper. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to make sure he was happy, secure and content, and to protect their marriage._

 

By the time I’m passing the Jamba Juice on Belmont, I’m feeling a little homesick for my friends back in Seattle. I try to force my mind back into the present, making mental notes of the pharmacy, several restaurants I’m interested in trying, a dentist’s office that looks convenient, and then I’m at the stairs that take me up to the station. Standing on the freezing, exposed station platform, I curse silently and wish that Chicago just had underground trains. 

 

 _Think warmth_ , I tell myself. Sunshine and summer days; the baseball games I’ll go to at Wrigley Field. Maybe I’ll take Jacey to a Cubs game…mmm, Jacey. As soon as Jacey’s face is in my head, I’m taken away from the biting wind and the clear, dry cold day, back to when I called him a few nights ago after I got home from dinner. The memory of the phone call floods me with warmth – among other things. 

 

_I texted him from my hotel Sunday night, to let him know I’d arrived safely. I waited until Monday night to call him, though, knowing that he planned to work on an assignment Sunday night._

_When he answered, I said, “Hey, sweet boy.”_

_“Hey yourself!” was his enthusiastic reply. I could hear the smile in his voice._

_“Not interrupting, am I?” I asked._

_“You are, actually,” he replied. “You interrupted an evening of sitting and waiting impatiently for the phone to ring.” I laughed and he added, “And so I thank you.”_

_“Happy to help,” I grinned. “And happy to hear your voice. It’s been a couple of weeks.”_

_“I know,” he sighed. “Last time I talked to you was just before the wedding.” He paused before continuing somewhat cautiously. “I know your email said it went okay. How are you?”_

_The weekend I’d met him in Chicago, I’d opened up to him a bit about what prompted my decision to leave Seattle. He was very sympathetic, and it was a real catharsis for me to be able to speak openly about it without judgment. He understood, therefore, that it wasn’t just the wedding of a friend. He had texted me a couple of times throughout that day letting me know he was thinking of me. It meant a lot._

_“I’m okay,” I said. “I just decided I needed to be there for Ashton and be happy. It was the last time I saw my close friends anyways, so I spent a lot of time talking to them, saying goodbye, promising to visit, that sort of thing.”_

_“Mm-hmm,” he murmured, inviting me to continue to talk about it if I wanted, or to change the subject. He never pried – he just listened. I didn’t tell him about Ashton and me becoming teary when we said goodbye; I didn’t tell him that I went home and slept for two days after the wedding. The emotional drain of it had shredded me._

_Instead I told him about my trip, about driving through the mountains across the north of Idaho and into Montana, and the snowstorm in Minnesota that was the scariest thing I’ve ever driven through. I’m no stranger to snow, having gone to school at Harvard - four years in Boston will give anyone a crash course in Nor’Easters. Being used to something, however, and liking it are two different things. I told him about the motels I stayed at, the tiny towns along the way. Stopping to try to find someplace to eat where I could get something simple like a grilled cheese sandwich and soup – something hearty without meat. He laughed at my experience at a diner in Bismarck, North Dakota, where the older waitress, at least in her late 50s, clucked her tongue when she heard I was driving 2,000 miles in 3 days. She’d sent me on my way with a thermos of coffee – who knows whose thermos it was, but they didn’t get it back – and some cookies, muffins, fruit and some cubes of cheese. She refused to let me pay, insisting that she was taking care of me as my mother would do if I wasn’t so far from home. I thanked her and gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving. I took the address of the diner and planned to send her a note of thanks once I arrived in Chicago._

_After I gave Jacey the highlights of my trip, he told me what was going on at school, and I told him a few things about my apartment he couldn’t remember. When a moment of silence found its way into our conversation, he said, “God, Jack; I miss you. It’s been, what, a little over a month? It feels like ages.”_

_“I know,” I replied. “When I was at the wedding and I kept getting those little texts from you, I wished you were there.”_

_He fell silent, and I wondered what he was thinking about. I wanted to ask him something, but was debating with myself if it was the right thing to do, whether it was too soon or if he’d feel obliged. I decided to bring it up as casually as I could manage. “So…spring break must be coming up for you pretty soon.”_

_“Three weeks,” he replied. When it became clear he wasn’t going to offer any more information than that, I continued._

_“Are you going anywhere?”_

_“Um…well, a couple of my housemates are going to Galveston. I’m supposed to go with them…” He hesitated._

_“But…?” I prompted._

_“I’m not sure if I really want to,” he concluded. Again he fell silent, offering me nothing else which I could use as a stepping stone to my question._

_“So what will you do if you don’t go?” I asked._

_“I don’t know – just hang around here, I guess. Work on assignments.”_

_“On Spring Break??” I asked incredulously. “You’d choose that over going to Galveston?”_

_He sighed.  “My housemates are all straight, Jack.  They know I’m gay and no one cares, but they all spend the entire week completely hammered, making crude comments about the girls that are there. Or they’re fucking them. So, yeah – I’d choose staying in Austin, over that.”_

_I closed my eyes, took a breath, and hurled myself out onto a limb. “Would you choose staying in Austin over coming to stay with me in Chicago?” I asked. There was silence at the other end of the line and I cringed before asking, “Jacey? You there?”_

_“I’m here,” was his quiet reply. “Really, Jack? You want me to come to Chicago?”_

_“Well…I’ll be working, so if you came you wouldn’t see me during the day. Of course, that’d give you time to work on those **assignments**.”  He laughed. “Or explore the city on your own. And then at night…we can have dinner, go out if you want to…stay in if you want to…” I ended suggestively. _

_“Mmm,” he murmured. “It does sound good…Are you sure, though? You told me you don’t normally make plans during the week because of your job.”_

_“This is more than just making plans with someone who lives in the same city,” I told him. “This is having you here, staying with me, for an entire week.” I paused for a minute before adding, “I really want you to come, Jacey.”_

_I heard a quick intake of breath. “I do too.”_

_“So?” I prompted._

_“Let’s do it,” he replied, suddenly confident._

 

It’s difficult to hide the smile on my face as I stand on the platform.  He’ll be arriving two weeks from tomorrow, and I feel impatient for it already – which is not me. Even when I’m planning a trip away somewhere, of course I look forward to it, but my life tends to be so busy that I have lots to keep me busy until the appointed time arrives. Impatience certainly isn’t my style; I generally take the approach that getting impatient won’t speed things up. While I was looking forward to my trip to Chicago for the interview, I was simply keen to go until my plans with Jacey materialized, and then it couldn’t happen fast enough. It’s the same now – I feel keyed up already and I still have two weeks to wait. 

 

The train arrives and I step on, realizing I’ll be standing for a while. Being rush hour, the cars are already quite full. The ride downtown is interesting. When I was going to Harvard, I took the T, Boston’s subway system, quite a bit to get around the city – at least for the first few years until Ashton got a car – and it’s efficient travel, but pretty boring. Here in Chicago, at least there’s something to look at outside the windows instead of pitch black and dank subway stations. The city flashes by. At each stop I have to brace my feet against the floor and grip the bar as we slow down, and then again as we speed up. 

 

In about twenty minutes I’m downtown, amid a throng of people who surge out of the train when the doors open. I hang back from the stairs for a moment, letting those who are in a hurry go ahead before I make my way down to street level. On the street I get my bearings, then head in the direction of the building. It’s just a couple of blocks away from the station, about a five minute walk.  As I walk I look around to find out where the nearest and most convenient parking is. I know I’ll usually take the train, but I’m planning to drive on Monday with my office accessories, and I want this opportunity when I’m not in a rush to figure out where everything is and get the lay of the land ahead of time. I have enough risk in my job just in playing with people’s money, that in my day-to-day life I plan as much in advance as I can. When I was here for my interview a month ago, I was too absorbed in what lay ahead to pay much attention to the surroundings.

 

I walk past the office building where I’ll be working and continue down the street, taking note of the restaurants and ATMs in the area. After walking around downtown for fifteen minutes or so, I decide to duck into a Starbucks for a coffee and to warm up. 

 

In the store I order a skinny cinnamon latte and a blueberry bar, and sit at one of the tables in the window to watch the city go by. I’m going to enjoy the time I have to myself before I start work on Monday. Since I got my first full-time job...actually, no, earlier than that. Since I started college I’ve worked hard, but I’ve also made certain to thoroughly enjoy my downtime, because it’s a precious commodity. The bit of travelling I’ve done, the skiing Ashton and I used to do, visits home to Fresno to see my parents and my brothers…those things are my restorative tonic. Too many people go constantly until they burn out. I always try to remind myself to take time to recharge. 

 

This time, my “battery charger” will be coming to me. I can’t say it’ll honestly be relaxing; but good for the soul, at least. Jacey’s gentle presence makes me breathe easy…except when he makes my heart pound.

 

 

I finish up my coffee, head back to the station and return home on the train. The uptown train is much less crowded, and I sit in the morning sun looking out toward Lake Michigan.  I could almost doze off in the warm sun, never mind the latte I just finished. My walk back to the apartment from Belmont Station is pleasant, and I arrive home feeling prepared for my first day on Monday. I’ve unpacked almost everything for the apartment now. I wanted to have it all done before I started work so I wouldn’t have to do it next week when I start the new job. I have just a few last things to unwrap – the few decorative items I keep, and the kitchen things I don’t use often, like wine glasses. By noon it’s done, and my apartment looks like I could have been here months already, instead of just a few days. I can relax now and enjoy the rest of the weekend.

 

I decide to flip open my laptop and check my email. There was no reason to change my home email address with the move since it's a Gmail account. I have one from Jasper. I grin as I read about how he has decided to go back to school for his Master’s degree, something we all encouraged him to do. They miss me already, he says, and they hope I’m keeping warm. Jasper was somewhat horrified by my decision to move to the Midwest – he’s only ever lived in Seattle, Texas and California, so ‘the land of ice and snow’, as he called it, seemed extreme. I had to remind him that I’d lived in Boston during college, and if I could survive that, I’d survive anything. 

 

As I’m reading, a notification pops into the bottom corner of my screen: “New message from Ashton Byrne.” My heart jumps to my throat, and almost immediately I curse my reaction.  _Damn it – get a grip! It’s just an email._   I click to open it, and it’s a reply to my “I made it” email:

 

_Hey bro! Glad to hear you arrived safely and that your trip was uneventful, aside from the inevitable snowstorm.  Just programmed your new cell number into my phone.  Commence texting. :)_

_We’re home too – got back late last night and we have a few days to recuperate before we both head back to work on Monday. The trip was great - Hawaii is beautiful.  Surfing is unbelievable! You have to go sometime, Jack – I paddled out almost every day. I even got Kathleen up on a board before we came home. She was nervous at first but once she got the hang of it she had a blast._

_It’s hard to believe it’s been almost two weeks since I talked to you – I don’t think that much time ever gone by without us being in contact **somehow** since the day we met. Let’s not make a habit of it, okay? Just because you’re – let me count – seven states away doesn’t mean we have to become strangers.  I’m about to get mushy, Jack - I can almost see you squirming with embarrassment as you read this. Heh. But I want to thank you for everything – for being my best man, and my best friend. I couldn’t have gotten married without you by my side. It’s been you and me, bro, since that day in freshman year. I know life happens and things change, but one thing will never change – you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I wanted to tell you this in my speech at the wedding, but I knew I wouldn't be able to say it without getting emotional – and I wouldn’t put you on the spot like that, not in front of everyone. I’ll save it for email. ;)_

_Anyway, I’m glad you’re well. Send us some pics of your new apartment when you have time. I’m going to attach a couple of photos I took on the beach – seriously, bro, swells like you’ve never seen._

_Talk to you soon,_

_Ashton_

 

The photos he sent are beautiful, as he said. I save them to my hard drive, then reread the email at least five times before moving it into the “Keepers” folder. After that, I’m no longer in the mood read my other emails. I feel listless. The positive mood I’ve preserved all week has suddenly evaporated. I snap my laptop closed in frustration; am I going to be all sappy and emo every fucking time Ashton sends me an email or a text? What the fuck can I expect if I actually speak to him?

 

I need to do something to take my mind off of it. My unpacking is already done, though. Normally the best way for me to get out my frustration is exercise. I haven’t gotten a gym membership yet since arriving – no time like the present. There’s a club on North Halsted, about three blocks from here; I passed it on my way to and from the L. I dress again for the cold and a few minutes later I’m at the club. At the front counter I’m greeted by a pleasant young man who summons the sales manager to give me a tour of the club.  In under an hour I’m a registered member and I return home to grab my gymbag. 

 

By the time I’ve worked out, taken advantage of the Jacuzzi and showered, I feel better. Not only was I checked out by at least five guys while I was working out, but just the general feeling of well-being that the endorphins have given me, have combined to lift some of the gloom. I leave the club with an idea brewing - it _is_ Friday night, after all. I’ve been here nearly a week – I think it’s time to partake of some of the neighborhood nightlife. 

 

Which is why, shortly after 11:30 p.m., I leave my apartment to walk to Spin. It’s cold, but I refuse to either take a taxi or drive to a club that’s five blocks away. This is, after all, why I chose this neighborhood: the amenities.

 

After a brisk walk, I arrive at the club. Even standing outside the blackened glass windows, the bass line of the music rattles the walls. The doorman signals me to go in, and I step through the deep-set, arched doorway, into what I hope may be an entertaining – and enjoyable – evening. 

 

Inside, the club is actually quite nice; many of the walls have been taken back to the original brick, the exposed steel girders painted red. The décor is understated and reasonably elegant, with black leather settees lining the walls. I check my coat and move slowly through the crowds, attempting to take in the club without being obvious about it. The posters in the front hall of the club advertise tonight’s events as a “Friday Nite Dance Party”, which appeals to me, and a “Shower Contest”, which does _not_. That shit has always made me roll my eyes, even when I was a teenager. At least tonight is for boys – elsewhere in the club I see ads for an upcoming Girl Shower Contest and one for bears on another night.  Oh well; at least everyone gets some representation.

 

The dance floor is downstairs. At the bar I order a couple of tequila shots. After tossing back the first one, I grab the second and move closer to the dance floor.  A quick scan of the room tells me that at least six or seven boys are staring at me. I don’t imagine I’ll have any shortage of dance partners tonight. Several of the boys smile – some hesitant, some confident – and I return each smile, with the genuine optimism I’m feeling. Each of the boys watching me can see me smile at the other ones; in my head I extend a silent challenge.  _Come on – who’s going to be the first one to risk it?_


	5. Chapter 3 - Un/Settling

_Jack_

 

I throw back the shot I’m holding and return to the bar, signaling the bartender that I’d like another two shots. I decide to remain with my back towards the boys I’ve made eye contact with and see what unfolds.  I hope to soon get a signal that one of the interested boys has approached me – a hand on my back, a presence at my side, or…

 

…a voice in my ear. “You look like you stepped out of a movie from the 40s,” it says. Definitely not a pickup line I’ve heard before, and I have to give props for creativity. I turn to the voice to find a boy, my height, with pale blond hair and blue eyes, standing close by my side. “I was thinking Cary Grant,” he adds before giving me a smile. 

 

“Thanks,” I reply, feeling pretty good about myself. Cary Grant is one of my favorite actors from that era. I return the boy’s smile as I step back a bit to examine him. 

 

He’s hot, that’s for sure. His short hair is sculpted into a fauxhawk and he has a silver hoop through the center of his bottom lip. I don’t have any piercings myself – I’m a bit straight-arrow when it comes to that stuff – but labret piercings have always driven me insane. This one doesn’t have the bead that so many do, just that tiny hoop. He’s wearing a tight white t-shirt and military-style khaki pants. His poise and bearing are very attractive. He seems like he has a healthy self-confidence level, without cockiness.

 

As I take him in, the bartender brings my shots, and the boy asks him for a vodka cooler. When the bartender leaves, the boy turns back to me and says, “I’m Karl.”

 

“Jack,” I reply, shaking his offered hand. 

 

“Good to meet you, Jack,” he continues. ”I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

 

“Nobody has,” I confirm.  “I just moved to Chicago.”

 

“Really? Where from?” he asks.

 

“Seattle.”

 

“Cool,” he says as the bartender brings his drink. I turn to face him, leaning my elbow against the bar. His lips still on the mouth of the bottle, his eyebrows rise slightly and a smile plays around his eyes. He lowers the bottle, and slowly his tongue comes out to catch a drop of liquid on his top lip, his eyes never leaving me.

 

I watch the tip of his tongue gradually trace a circuit around the inner edge of his lips, then he slowly and deliberately smacks his lips. I set my empty shot glass on the bar and step closer to him, our bodies so close that our groins nearly touch. “Do you dance, Karl?” I ask.

 

He smiles. “I _also_ dance,” he replies meaningfully. I slip my hand around his low back and start to move through the crowd, gently guiding him towards the dance floor. The DJ is playing a song I haven’t heard since high school. When we find a spot on the floor, Karl turns to me, placing his hands on either side of my waist. “I love this song,” he says, starting to swing his slim hips to the beat. I grab them, matching his rhythm. 

 

This place is packed, especially here on the dance floor, and the crush of people is making me feel overheated. I reach to grab the hem of my shirt and quickly pull it off, tucking it into the side of my pants.

 

Karl’s reaction to my bare chest is swift and decided – he follows suit immediately. His chest is broad and defined, his strong shoulders a perfect foil for his slim hips.

 

“Nice,” I say into his ear, smiling appreciatively. 

 

“I’m a swimmer,” he replies, grabbing my hand. He lifts it over my head and twirls me slowly around, his eyes taking in everything till I’ve completed a full revolution. Still holding my hand he wraps our linked arms around his back so we’re standing close to each other. 

 

“I thought I knew all the Hugo Boss models,” he says. I toss my head back and laugh heartily. It feels good to feel so normal, to be around people again and flirt and act like a typical single gay man. It’s been too easy this week to hibernate, hide away from the world.

 

Karl joins my laughter, resuming his swaying grind to the pulsing bass that vibrates the floor under our feet. Fortunately I’ve never been self-conscious, or else I’d be dying right now. I can see, from simply glancing us around as we dance, that many eyes are checking us out. It’s not egotism – it’s simply a fact of life in this bizarre little microcosm of society. Some approach, hoping to cut in. I deflect them as I always do interruptions, by ignoring them, though I make a mental note of a few I’ll want to look for next time. 

 

Karl clearly appreciates my focus because he steps up his game, turning his back to me and grinding his ass against my cock. “Fuck,” I curse, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, seeking greater pressure. He slides his ass up and down my length a few times. I can’t help grabbing a handful of his ass cheek and squeezing – it’s amazing, muscular and firm. If he thinks I should be modeling Boss, he should be doing underwear ads for Calvin Klein.

 

He turns again to face me and hooks his arms around my neck. I lightly guide my hands over the muscles of his naked back, feeling them ripple with each gyration of his smooth body. I can feel the hard length of his cock pressing against mine.

 

“Jack,” he says in my ear, “I want you to fuck me.”

 

I run my hand over his blond hair, feeling the soft spikes of his fauxhawk.  “Where do you live?” I ask. 

 

-o-

 

His place is literally a block away, on Halsted. It’s a small apartment, which Karl laughingly calls a one-bedroom; but he lives alone, he says, so it has enough room for him.

 

After we kick off our coats, I gaze at him, waiting for him to make a move. He slowly pulls off his shirt and I mirror his actions.  Our mutual striptease continues with our belts and pants till we’re in our briefs. What he’s wearing can’t actually be called briefs – he’s wearing a black jock strap. I step closer and run my finger under the waistband, dipping downward at the front pouch. My fingertip grazes the side of his cock, then his balls. His body tenses and his eyes close. I bring my other hand to do the same thing on the other side; my fingertips eventually meet under his cock. A quiet hiss escapes him when, with the pads of my index fingers, I stroke down the underside of his prick. He reaches up to place both his hands on my shoulders, steadying himself. 

 

I tickle under the head with all my fingertips and he giggles a bit. “Feels like a little octopus in my jock,” he grins.

 

“Hmmm – how about this, then?” I retort, and drop to my knees, quickly yanking the jock down to the ankles. Immediately I engulf his cock with my mouth. His hands, still on my shoulders, grip tightly. He breathes heavily, little moans on each exhale. I don’t blow him gently or tenderly – it’s deep, intense, sucking hard and gripping his cock tight. The small moans escalate quickly into wails. When he gasps that he’s going to come, I release his cock from my mouth and let his hot jizz paint my bare chest as it jets out of him. His orgasm is both loud and messy; when he’s finished he bends down to give me a kiss. I bow my head and he gets the top of my head. I don’t kiss hookups…at least, very seldom. 

 

He pulls me to my feet, and for some reason my mood has shifted. I still want to get off but I just want to hurry up – get off and get out. He’s still blissful on his endorphin wave and isn’t picking up on my change of mood. Again he tries to kiss me. I pull away, telling him, “Kneel on the couch.”

 

He looks surprised and perhaps a bit snubbed at the rebuff, but says nothing and crosses the room to the couch and does what I ask. He braces his hands against the back of the couch, kneeling on the seat. Without a word, I drop my briefs, roll on a condom and lube his ass. My cock against him, I pause as I always do, to make sure he’s ready. 

 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Give it to me hard.”

 

 _You got it,_ I think, and after breaching the initial resistance, I push into him, my thighs slapping his ass as they meet. He cries out – I can’t distinguish it as a cry of pleasure or discomfort. 

 

“Too hard?” I ask, a twinge of guilt at slamming into him, even though he asked for it.

 

“It’s okay,” he says, sounding like he’s clenching his jaw. “Just gimme a sec.” _It was too much._ Silently I curse myself for letting my weird funk distract me from taking my usual care. I never enter someone like that – I always go slowly, I always make sure they’ve adjusted first, regardless of how hard I fuck them later. 

 

Karl rests his head on his forearms on the back of the couch. Guiltily I reach up to strike the back of his head. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. He doesn’t reply. Finally he lifts his head and exhales and I apologize again. “I’m really sorry.”

 

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I didn’t get a look at you – you’re bigger than I realized.” He grins over his shoulder at me. “Next time I’ll look before I ask someone to leap.”

 

“You’re really okay?” I ask, needing to be absolutely certain before I continue.

 

In answer he curls his pelvis forward slightly, pulling away, then pushes back into me.  He sighs as he does, so deeply it’s nearly a growl.  “I’m really okay,” he replies.  To punctuate his point he squeezes his ass cheeks a few times, clamping around me. 

 

Slowly and steadily I rock in and out of him, making myself pay closer attention to his experience, reminding myself that it’s not all about me.  This time when he lies his head on the back of the couch it’s to relax into the experience and enjoy it.  I maintain my steady pace until he reaches behind me, pulling me harder against him.  I push deep and he groans a soft, “Yeah…uhh, yeah…,” encouraging me to pick up speed.  His right hand disappears beneath him to play with his cock.  As he does, his vocalizations grow louder and more insistent.

 

“I’m close,” I bark out hoarsely.

 

“Then come,” he cries.  “Come with me.”

 

Thrusting deeply I spill my load.  Karl goes to pieces beneath me, bucking and meeting my thrusts.  Again his orgasm is noisy, whereas I peak and ride out my release silently.  As soon as the last pulse has subsided, I grasp the condom and pull out.

 

Karl is still on the couch, breathing noisily through the last vestiges of his raptures, when I pull on my underwear and pants. He finally opens his eyes when he hears my zipper.

 

“Wow,” he whooshes.  “You’re amazing.  You suck cock like a Hoover and fuck like a battering ram.”

 

“Great,” I reply flatly.  “Thanks for the fuck.”

 

“Sure,” he replies, getting up off the couch and cleaning up the mess with his pants.  “You’re welcome to a replay anytime.”

 

“I’ll remember that,” I return, making an effort not to sound as ungracious as I feel.  Karl opens the door for me and tries one last time to kiss me, but I quickly step through the door, saying, “See you around.”

 

Back out on the street I make my way home.  The wind has picked up and I pull a wool ski hat out of my pocket, pulling it down snugly over my ears.  My new lined leather gloves keep my hands warm on the walk, but the wind blows right through my pants. 

 

As I walk I ask myself why, in the midst of what should have been a perfectly good hookup, I found myself feeling irritated and out of sorts.  Karl did nothing wrong – he had a great body and he was hot and enthusiastic.  He wasn’t too demanding, wasn’t too forward.  So what the hell is wrong with me? And how the fuck did I allow myself to hurt him?  That’s the worst part – I’ve never hurt anyone, never forced, always been careful and respectful.  It’s my responsibility as a top to be careful.  I can’t fucking believe what I did.

 

By the time I get home I seriously need a drink, despite the shots I had earlier.  I crack open a bottle of tequila – a part gift from jasper and Edward – and pour myself a double.  I settle onto the couch and flip on the TV.  The Late Late Show is on and Craig Ferguson usually has me laughing.  Tonight laughter eludes me; after finishing my drink I just go to bed.

 

Sunday morning is another bright, cold day.  I wake with a throbbing headache, partly from the tequila, partly from the shitty night’s sleep I had.  I decide to skip the gym today.  With breakfast I drink copious amounts of water and a side of Advil.  The rest of my weekend is spent puttering around, doing chores and errands to get ready for the week, reading, and familiarizing myself with the history and structure of my new firm.  I decide against replying to Ashton’s email, instead picking up the phone to call him.  I keep it light, expressing envy over the surfing conditions and just generally focusing on superficial things, like my apartment and the new neighborhood. 

 

By Monday morning I’ve recovered physically from Friday night’s debauchery.  I still can’t think about it, though, without accompanying pants of guilt and a creeping discomfort. Most unsettling is wondering why it happened. I try to push it to the back of my mind and focus on my first day at the new job.

 

I drive to work today, a box of my office stuff in the trunk.  I have my broker’s license, a few awards, my framed Econ degree from Harvard and my favorite coffee mug.  I’m not superstitious…mostly.  I only know that my coffee mug is the closest thing to a lucky charm I’ve ever had.  I don’t even use it for coffee anymore – it gets a place on my shelf. 

 

I pull into the parking lot underneath my office building.  I have my travel coffee mug in one hand and my briefcase in the other, and once I get the trunk open and the box out, it’s awkward to try to balance the box while I close the trunk.  Just my luck – the box falls and most of the contents go spilling out. 

 

With a deep sigh, I kneel to pick them up, hoping to hell nothing’s cracked.  I’m checking under my car for my lucky mug when someone steps beside me. 

 

“Let me help you with that,” says a friendly male voice. 

 

“Thanks,” I reply gratefully, looking up just as the voice’s owner kneels beside me. 

 

He’s blonde, broad-shouldered and friendly.  He picks up several of my awards and places them in the box until something catches his eye. 

 

“You’re Jack Charles?” he asks with surprise.  He’s holding my award from the Seattle Rainbow Connection, a program for youths who have just come out to be mentored by gay men and women. 

 

“I am,” I reply.  “And you are…?”

 

“I’m Mike Newton, from Newton, Stanley and Crowley,” he says with a pleasant smile.  “Once you get settled, you and I are going to be working together quite a bit to figure out the mess Eric Yorkie got your firm into.”

 

“Great,” I reply resignedly.  I stand up to shake his hand.  “It’s nice to meet you.  And there’s one first impression ruined,” I add self-effacingly. 

 

He chuckles.  “Not at all,” he replies before taking my hand.  When we’re standing face-to-face, he’s just an inch taller than me and I have to admit that he’s extremely good-looking.  Our eyes lock as we shake and I can’t help noticing that he holds my hand just a beat longer than necessary.  His bright blue eyes twinkle with something for an instant before he drops my hand.  “Good to meet you, Jack,” he adds.

 

“Likewise,” I smile back.

 

“The elevators are this way.”  He gestures down the row of cars.  As we walk to the elevator he tells me he’s here to meet with the board of directors to update them on the case.  I knew about this situation already, of course. It was explained to me at the time that they made the job offer, as they wanted me to have all the information I needed to make an informed decision about working for the firm.  “I should leave the rest up to your employers to discuss with you, though,” he says as we reach the elevator. 

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I agree.

 

“So you’re from Seattle, right?” he asks, and I nod.  “Mariners fan?”

 

“Actually, no. I went to school in Boston and became a Red Sox fan while I was there,” I admit. 

 

His eyebrows rise.  “Boston? Did you go to Harvard?”  

 

“Yeah,” I confirm.  “Econ ’05.” 

 

“I did my law degree there,” he smiles. 

 

“Are you from the East Coast?”

 

“No, I’m from here in Chicago, actually,” he explains.  “My dad’s a founding partner at the firm I work for.  You?”

 

“Fresno,” I reply.

 

“California boy,” he grins. 

 

The door opens on the 39th floor and I step out, saying, “It was good to meet you.  I guess we’ll talk again soon.”

 

He smiles a genuinely friendly smile.  As the doors close, he says, “I look forward to it.”

 

 _Hmmm_ , I think. Having to work with him certainly won’t be the worst thing in the world.  _Thank you, Eric Yorkie._ Wherever you are.

 

I turn to the glass doors that separate the hall outside the elevator from the offices.  On the other side of the doors a middle-aged woman is waiting expectantly. She smiles when she sees me.

 

“Hi,” she greets me.  “You must be Mr. Charles.”

 

“Jack,” I smile, extending my hand.

 

As she shakes it she introduces herself.  “I’m Eleanor Barry.  I manage the support staff here at the brokerage.”

 

“Good to meet you,” I reply. 

 

“Andrew is on a conference call right now,” she explains, referring to my direct supervisor.  “He asked me to show you to your office and then take you down to HR to get some paperwork looked after.  By the time we’re finished Andrew should be free and he’ll give you the grand tour.” 

 

“Sounds great,” I reply gratefully. 

 

“Your office is this way.”  She gestures for me to follow her and as we pass a series of cubicles she asks a few pleasant questions about how I’m settling in to Chicago life.  In my office I set my box of stuff on the desk to unpack and arrange it later, then follow her up a couple of floors to the Human Resources department.

 

-o-

 

By the end of the day I’ve gotten a tour of the entire office, spanning four floors of the large office building.  I’ve met the rest of the management team, as well as the assistants who will be supporting me.  My office is now situated and workable, and by some miracle IT has my office computer fully functional, operating exactly as it should.  My supervisor, Andrew, is friendly and helpful. My fellow brokers have shared with me that he is an excellent supervisor who wants his brokers to succeed and works hard to make sure that happens.  Overall, I feel positive about the company and my coworkers.  This was a good move and I can’t wait to get working again.

 

 

At home, after my dinner of a seitan gyro and sweet potato fries, I pick up my phone and call home to my parents’…that is, my mom’s place.  I wince with the mental correction – I still do, every time I think of home, because my dad doesn’t live there anymore.

 

My father, John Charles, passed away very suddenly about nine months ago.  He was much too young, and a brain aneurysm took him in an instant.  The day I lost him was the worst day of my life.  Seeing my mom wonder what she would do without her husband; watching my grandmother, Dad’s mom, look absolutely lost as she attempted to comprehend that she had outlived her child; trying to comfort my younger brothers while my own heart was being torn into pieces…we all relied on each other heavily and brought each other through it, but it was awful.  It was the only time I’ve seriously considered returning to California since leaving there when I finished high school. 

 

My mom, Laura, lives alone now that my youngest brother has gone to college.  After Dad passed away Sean announced that, in order to stay closer to Mom, he would accept the offer he’d received from CalTech instead of going to MIT as he’d planned.  Mom insisted that he continue with his original plans, not wanting him to regret a decision that was made in haste and in grief.  At the time I’d thought Sean’s offer was a very reasonable one – CalTech’s Chemical Engineering program would open nearly as many doors for him as MIT’s would – but in retrospect I realized Mom was right.  Sean had dreamed of going to MIT for as long as we could remember. When he found out he was accepted, Dad was so proud he couldn’t sleep all that night.  All three of us are smart guys and we’ve all done well in school, but Sean is something pretty extraordinary.  MIT is where he should be. 

 

My middle brother, Aaron, is in his final year of an applied math program at Brown. Next year he’ll stay there to do a graduate degree in biostatistics.  The interesting thing about Aaron is that, in spite of being a self-proclaimed math geek, he’s also very creative and artistic.  He plays the guitar and sings.  When Dad died, Aaron wrote a song and then sang and played it at the funeral, four days later.  He’s the most like Mom in personality. Sean and I are both much more like Dad.

 

So with all three of her sons in different parts of the country, Mom is on her own. She hasn’t worked since I was born and even now with Dad gone, she is well-taken care of by his life insurance.  Though I’m glad she doesn’t have to worry about money, sometimes I wish she did have a job to go to – something that would give her a reason to get up and leave the house every day. Since the day she got married, Mom’s entire life has been about taking care of the men in her life.  She’s still very young and healthy.  It makes me so angry that now, at the time of her life when she and Dad should be enjoying their new freedom as empty-nesters, she is instead learning how to be a widow. 

 

When she answers, she sounds tired and worn. As soon as she hears my voice, though, she perks up.  “Jackie!” she exclaims.  “I’ve been wondering about you all day.  How was your first day at the new job?”

 

“It was great, Mom,” I smile, beginning a detailed description of my office, coworkers and the downtown building where I work.  Mom always wants to know all the details, and she retains them, too, like a steel trap.  After I’ve given her as much detail as I can, she asks, “So, meet anyone interesting?”

 

“Mom,” I sigh in mock exasperation, though I know she’s teasing.  “It was my first day – I wasn’t scouting for a boyfriend.  Give me at least a week, okay?”

 

She chuckles and it’s such a welcome sound – not only because she so seldom laughs anymore but also because she has a lovely laugh.  “Well, okay then,” she plays along.  “I’ll expect to hear from you Friday night.” She pauses before continuing, “So…we haven’t talked about the wedding.”  She’s bringing it up sensitively, knowing it’s a difficult subject.  Though I’ve never come out and told her that I have feelings for Ashton, it’s all but acknowledged between us.  “I talked to Kay last weekend and she said it was lovely.  She emailed me some pictures.”  Kay and David Byrne, Ashton’s parents, have been good friends with my parents since they met through Ashton and me, the summer after freshman year in college when we were both home in California.  Mom was invited to Ashton and Kathleen’s wedding, of course, but decided it was too soon for her.  “You looked so handsome in your suit, Jackie.  Ashton too.  Kathleen is a lovely looking woman.” 

 

“She loves Ashton,” I reply, “and he’s crazy about her.  They’re very well suited in temperament – I’m sure they’ll be very happy.”

 

“It’s good of you to say so,” she replies softly. 

 

I squirm uncomfortably, feeling a little embarrassed by the conversation.  “Why don’t you fly down to Malibu to visit Kay and David?” I suggest. 

 

“You know how busy Kay is, dear,” Mom dismisses.  “She volunteers at one place or another almost every day of the week. Oh, speaking of volunteering, I went to your old elementary school on Thursday and signed up to help first graders with reading.”

 

“Really? Mom, that’s great!” I exclaim.  “How often will you be going?”

 

“Two mornings a week,” she replies. 

 

“I’m so glad.  Good for you,” I encourage her.  “I worry about you, cocooning yourself in the house every day. I’m glad you have a reason to get out into the world.”

 

“Well, we’ll see how it goes,” she hedges.  “It’s been a long time since I had a first grader. I’m sure they have different methods of teaching now.”

 

I scoff.  “Mom, all the letters still make the same sounds they did twenty years ago.  I’m sure you’ll be great, and the kids will love you.”

 

“Well, thank you, dear,” she replies. I can hear the smile in her voice.  I know she’ll do a kickass job; what’s more, I’m sure _she_ knows it too. Even if she is a little rusty, she has a natural affinity for dealing with kids on their level.  She’ll love it. 

 

After chatting for a few more minutes, we say goodbye with promises to talk again on the weekend.  I hang up feeling encouraged – she sounds as good as or better than any other time since losing Dad.  I am relieved and happy and it only adds to my good mood.  

 

There’s only one more thing I need to make my day complete, and that’s to talk to Jacey.  Despite that we didn’t really say we’d talk on a daily basis or even every couple of days, I find myself wanting to talk to him every day.  Even after I’ve just spoken to him, in the following days I am constantly reminding myself that I don’t need to call him again so soon.  But tonight is different. I want to thank him for the text he sent and tell him about my day.  I don’t know what his plans are for tonight, if he’s busy with schoolwork or has any classes, but if he’s home I want to talk to him.  I could text first, I suppose, in case I’m interrupting…

 

Nah.  I grab my phone and punch in the now-familiar phone number.  It rings, once, twice…and I wait to talk to the boy who is quickly becoming my favorite person.


	6. Chapter 4 - Second Impressions

_Jack_

"Hello?"

He answers after the second ring. I know he has call display, and I also happen to know that he has a particular song programmed into his phone to play when it's me calling (though he has yet to tell me what it is). It never ceases to make me smile that, despite these facts, he always answers as though he has no idea who it is, his voice lilting upwards in a question. Perhaps he does it on purpose so that I'll have no choice but to say…

"Hey there, sweet boy."

"Jack!" he replies, happiness evident in his gentle voice. "How are you? How was your first day?"

"It was great," I grin, and launch into an abbreviated version of the details I gave my mom. I'm sure Jacey is less interested than Mom is, in the color of the tile in the 39th floor men's room. I cover the important stuff, though; and make sure to end with a grateful acknowledgement of the text he sent me mid-morning. "There were moments during the day when the information overload was a little overwhelming," I admitted, "but knowing you were thinking about me made it much easier to get through. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replies. "I'm glad you called to tell me about it – I was wondering how things went."

"Well, I have to admit that you're _not_ the first person I called tonight. I'm very sorry – but you came in second, after my Mom." I'm feeling relaxed and light enough to tease a bit.

He chuckles. "Oh, don't apologize for calling your mom first. I live in the South, don't forget," he returns, before slipping into a deep Texas drawl. "If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

I laugh out loud, the sound echoing throughout the apartment, at his affected accent. It sounds like a caricature of a Texas redneck. Jacey does, of course, have a bit of drawl, but it's a sexy, throaty sort of accent consisting of some elongated syllables and the addition of a mild "sh" sound where I only pronounce an "s". Honestly, I never found any southern accent very sexy till I met Jacey, but that extra half-second when he draws out my name – it does things to me.

He joins in my laughter, commenting when it dies down, "It's good to hear you laugh like that."

"It's been a while," I admit. "I mean, since I laughed out loud and really felt it. Probably since before the wedding. God…" I think back. "Maybe since we met here in January."

"Jesus, Jack," he says, "you're making my heart ache."

"Sorry," I apologize immediately. "I don't mean to be such a wet blanket."

"Well, it's not that; more that I worry about you. You seriously need to laugh more than once every few months," he suggests.

"Oh, I have big plans for laughing," I assure him and return to some levity. "I predict that about eleven days from now a warm front will move sweep into Chicago, bringing sweet Texas winds, brilliant sunshine and raucous laughter."

"Ack," he groans. "I can't wait, and at the same time I know I have, like, four assignments due between now and then…"

"Shit, and I've kept you talking on the phone for half an hour. You should have told me to let you get back to work," I chide.

"No way. I don't get to talk to you that often – man can't live by text messages alone."

"No," I murmur. "No, he can't. Well, you work on your assignments and I'll do the 'can't wait'-ing for both of us, okay?"

He sighs. "At least having a ton of school stuff to do will keep me busy between now and next Friday."

"Would you rather I not call you while you're trying to get your stuff done?" I offer. I mean it in all seriousness but he scoffs.

"Pfft – no, I would _not_ rather that," he returns quite decidedly. "In fact I'll be home and sitting by the telephone Sunday night…say around 6 p.m.?"

"It's a date, cowboy," I smile.

"Cowboy, huh? You know, I do have the hat."

"You do?" I try to picture beautiful, artistic Jacey in a cowboy hat, but as I've only ever seen him dressed for the city, I just can't draw the mental image.

"Yeah, I worked on a ranch near my house, summers when I was in high school. I still have the hat. Comes in handy for cowboy nights at the clubs." I can hear a smirk in his voice.

"I think you'd better bring that hat to Chicago when you visit," I tell him. When he laughs, I continue, "I'm being quite serious. I need to see this."

"That so," he says. "Well, I'll think about it."

Now he's just being mean. "Okay – back to work, youngling. I don't want to get a call from you next Thursday night telling me you can't visit because the dog ate your homework or something."

"Not a fucking chance." This time _he's_ the one who's dead serious. "Nothing will keep me away. But I do need to get back to work. Have a good rest of the week, Jack. I'll talk to you Sunday."

"You can count on it," I promise. "Bye, sweet boy."

"Bye."

The line goes dead. I gaze off into space for a while and think about him. In my mind's eye I picture him flipping his phone shut; and maybe he's gazing off into space too, a faint smile gracing his sweet lips as he thinks about the call…and then I shake my head and return myself to the present. I set my cordless back into the charger and I'm heading to the kitchen for a glass of water when my cell phone chirps, alerting me to a text message. I wonder if it's Ashton, not really considering that it might be Jacey since we just hung up. I press a key on my cell to open up my messages, and there sits a photo message: an obvious self-portrait, featuring a shirtless Jacey. An impish grin is plastered on his face and an off-white straw cowboy hat with a slim black cord around it sits atop his head, tilted rakishly to one side. As always his brown hair falls in soft waves to his shoulders and something about the lighting has particularly caught his blue-grey eyes. In other words: dead fucking sexy.

I groan – even if my imagination hadn't failed me, there's no way I could have pictured something as good as this. I quickly text back, _Was just on my way to bed. Won't be able to sleep NOW. Yeehaw, cowboy. :) JC_

Less than thirty seconds after my message, the phone chirps again. _Pleasant dreams,_ is his innocent reply. I grumble at my phone. Pleasant dreams, indeed. Wet dreams is more like it.

I grab a glass of water and head to bed. After stripping off all my clothes into the hamper I slip naked between the soft, smooth sheets. I grab my cell from the night table and thumb to Jacey's message again. My already half-hard cock twitches as I close my eyes and picture him standing in my bedroom wearing nothing but that hat. As alluring as the hat is, the thought of him being here is an even bigger turn-on. I stretch and roll onto my back, pushing the covers down past my hips so my upper body is exposed. I cup and stroke my balls, imagining Jacey's hands on me; and when I finally take hold of my rigid shaft, it's Jacey, sinking down onto me, taking my length deep inside him. The image of him riding me, his lips parted as he pants heavily, finishes me. I explode, panting right along with my dream boy, covering my hand and stomach with jizz.

After my breathing returns to normal I clean up and slide back down under my covers. It's been a busy, tiring day, and especially after a fantastic orgasm thinking about Jacey, I am very quickly drifting off.

-o-

The rest of the week passes reasonably quickly. My days are spent at work, of course, and in the evenings I hit the gym after dinner. At work I now know the names of five people without having to stop and think about them – they're all the administrative assistants. I figure it pays to learn their names first – they'll be supporting me while I work here. I know other brokers who treat their support staff like crap – one actually told me once that his staff should be grateful that they get to work for someone who makes as much money as he does – but I have never, ever found merit in it. For one thing, I have a difficult time being a jerk to anyone; but especially the people upon whom I'm going to rely to make sure my paperwork is processed. We should all be treating our support staff like fucking gold.

The assistants I'll see on a daily basis are Amanda, Linda, Carrie, Jenna and Susan. Linda, Carrie and Susan have all been with the company for at least fifteen years; Amanda and Jenna are in their early twenties, but very energetic and friendly. My two main support people are Jenna and Susan. Numerous times through the week I sidle up to one of them and quietly ask them to remind me what so-and-so's name is, or to please help me change my outgoing message on the voicemail system. They help me through the week and by the end of it I'm calling the group The Fab Five. I show up Friday morning with a large bouquet of flowers to brighten their shared workspace. The reaction I get shows me I've just cemented my place in their good graces. After Andrew notices the flowers and asks where they came from, he sticks his head in my office door. "Nicely done, Jack," is all he says, but I know he shares my views on how to treat support staff.

The inevitable situation does arise, of course. In the lunch room, Linda asks if I'm married. "No, not married," I answer, which invites the next obvious question: _Seeing anyone?_ I have to fight the urge to sigh; I'm not closeted in the least, but good grief, why do people think this is their business? "I'm sort of seeing someone, but it's a long-distance thing."

"Aw, really?" she says sympathetically.

"Yeah," I reply, and casually add, "He lives in Austin." I keep my eyes fixed on the bowl of split pea soup in front of me, but I swear I see a triumphant smile on Jenna's face in my peripheral vision. The verbal reaction is one of sympathy, a chorus of _awww._ I'm glad that's out of the way.

-o-

By Friday night I've come to a decision about something that's been bothering me, namely, Karl. I still don`t know what the fuck happened last week when I was with him, but I know it was unacceptable to treat him that way. Whatever is going on in my own weird psyche should not result in me mistreating an innocent bystander. There's only one way I can think of to make it right – I have to find him and apologize.

Late Friday night I set off for Spin. I figure it's the best place to start, though I have other clubs in mind if he's not there.

In the club I check my coat and grab a couple of shots to steel my nerves before looking for him. Fortunately his fauxhawk makes him fairly easy to spot on the dance floor. I toss back my shots and slowly make my way across the dance floor. It's a girl shower contest night; once in a while feminine-sounding catcalls resound from that part of the bar. The floor is packed with boys – sexy, buff boys who don't hesitate to slide up against me as I pass. I recognize one or two of the faces as ones I saw last week. One boy, of whom I made particular note last week, smiles at me this time and I return his smile. _Hmmm,_ I think, _maybe I'll come back to that._ Karl is only a few feet away now – he hasn't noticed me threading my way through the crowd. As soon as he does his entire face lights up.

"Jack!" he shouts and wraps his arms around my neck. I grin at his enthusiasm. It's clear he's feeling good tonight and I'm encouraged at his positive reaction to seeing me. Certainly he doesn't seem to hold a grudge.

"Hey Karl!" I shout over the throbbing bass, hugging him back.

"Dance with me," he insists, and I do for a couple of songs. His friends are around us and a few of them tell me their names as we dance – Jesse, Scott, Ian. After a few songs I tell Karl, "Hey, come on, I'll buy you a drink."

He nods and links his arm through mine before we begin a slow weave back to the bar. When we have drinks in hand I ask him, "There's a lounge upstairs where it's a bit quieter, right?" He nods and I continue, "Can we go up there? I wanted to talk to you about last weekend."

He looks perplexed but agrees. Upstairs we find a vacant banquette on which to sit; we still have to talk over the noise, the cacophony of voices in the packed lounge, but it's much better than down near the DJ's booth.

"So," I begin, "I came here tonight hoping I'd find you. I wanted to talk to you about last Friday when I came to your place."

He's regarding me with uneasiness now. "Fuck, Jack. You look serious as a heart attack. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" I assure him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell you I have a disease or something."

He relaxes visibly and smiles. "Thank fuck. I mean, I know we were safe, but…you know."

I do know. It's the same risk all of us take any time we hook up with someone whose sexual background we don't know. "No, I wanted to talk to you about when I…" Time to swallow my pride. "When I hurt you."

"Oh." He nods, understanding. "That. I told you last weekend, Jack – it's okay. I did ask you to give it to me hard."

"You did," I acknowledge, "but that doesn't relieve me of my responsibility to be careful. I _am_ always careful and I can't even explain what happened. I felt awful, that night and all goddamn week. I had to come tell you how much I regret it."

"You came here specifically to find me so you could apologize?" He looks astonished.

"I did," I nod. "When my dad gave me 'the sex talk' he told me that no one else would be accountable for me. I was responsible, he said, not just to use a condom but to make sure my partner was okay. 'A real man brings respect to a sexual relationship, even if that relationship only asks one night.' When I came out at the end of high school he told me it changed nothing about my responsibilities in that regard. What he said stayed with me."

Karl has listened to me with widening eyes. "Well, fuck," he replies. "I've never heard anyone say anything like that before."

"That's why I came looking for you," I continue. "I should have said it as soon as it happened. I'm so sorry that I wasn't careful or respectful of you, Karl. I regret it very much."

"Thank you for coming to find me," he replies, his hand reaching out to gently stroke the back of mine where it rests on my thigh. "And for apologizing. Of course I accept. It's fine – I'm fine. Really." He gazes at me for a moment before adding, "Maybe you _are_ Cary Grant."

I have to laugh at his assessment. "Not even close," I reply. "For starters, Katharine Hepburn would walk all over me, I'm quite sure."

"That's an unfair comparison," he grins. "She was dynamite." He slides his fingers under my hand and links them with mine. I'm pretty sure he's not just being friendly. I meet his gaze and he's looking hungrily at me.

"Karl," I begin, but he shushes me.

"I know. I know you don't like to kiss, and I know you don't like a guy who comes on too strong…don't look so surprised. I've got eyes, Jack, and I'm pretty decent at reading body language. You don't have to be worried that I'm going to cling. I'm not looking for anything other than the chance to have you in my bed again."

_Hmm._ Just another no-strings fuck? "Technically you didn't have me in your bed before…" I point out coyly. He only smirks in reply. I think perhaps he knows I'm in.

-o-

Two hours later I'm whistling as I walk home, thoroughly sated and relaxed and thinking how terribly convenient it is that Karl's apartment is so close to Spin. Things went well there tonight; he didn't try to kiss me, but he did give one knee-buckling blowjob. And as I was waiting at the bar for Karl to say goodbye to his friends, the boy I saw when I first arrived came up to me, introducing himself as Sam. I told him I already had plans but that I would keep an eye out for him next time I was there. He nodded and smiled, and suggested he'd like it if that happened sooner rather than later.

I can only grin as I consider that, at least where sex is involved, my prospects here are pretty damn good. Not that I've ever had trouble finding a hookup, but being new has given me a freedom I've never experienced before.

On the other hand, something I've realized since moving here is how much time I have alone with my thoughts. In Seattle I had the options to see my friends on the weekend and I always exercised that option. Knowing that, I chose to have weekday evenings to myself.

Here my weekends are spent doing what little amount of cleaning and laundry are necessary; then I'm on my own. This weekend I end up on the phone a lot. I call both of my brothers at school, my mom again, Ashton and Kathleen, Jasper and Edward, my roommate from my freshman year of college. I even get on Facebook and nose around to see if any old college friends are in the area (there are a couple but no one I'm really anxious to see). I figure while my time is my own I should make the most of getting to know my new city. Saturday afternoon I visit the Adler Planetarium. As the stars chart a course around the ceiling of the darkened Sky Theatre I decide I have to bring Jacey here when he visits – he would be entranced by the sheer beauty of this.

Sunday evening I call him, as arranged. He's waiting for me of course, and has good news that he's already completed three of his four assignments. "I've been working like a demon," he admits. "Seriously – I haven't been to a club in two weeks."

"Wow, by the time you get here you'll be ready to cut loose," I suggest.

"Definitely," he agrees. "I can't wait. A friend of mind was telling me about a club called Spin? He said it's pretty wild."

"It's not bad," I agree. "They have good music, definitely. They have 'events' if you like that sort of thing. Something for everyone. But there's another one I haven't been to yet; I'd like to go while you're here…" I find myself steering the conversation away from the clubs, asking him about school, work, family…anything else.

As we wrap up he says wistfully, "Well, five days from now I'll be with you."

"For a whole week," I add. "Think you'll be able to put up with me that long?"

"I like a challenge," he replies.

"Smartass," I grin. "Have a safe trip."

"See you Friday, Cracker Jack."

"Bye, Jacey."

I'm not sure how I feel about taking him to Spin – the thought of him seeing me with Karl or seeing the other boy, Sam, acknowledge our casual plans, makes me uncomfortable. The problem is, I don't know _why_ it does. Neither of us has made or asked for any kind of commitment or exclusivity. Surely he understands as well as I do how complicated and impractical that would be. He lives 1200 miles away and we've only actually been together on two separate weekends. I don't think I could be in an exclusive relationship where my partner was so far away and I saw him only every few months.

On the other hand, the mere fact that he's travelling this far to visit me makes this more than just a friends-with-benefits situation. I know the connection we feel is uncommonly intense. If life was different, if we didn't live so far apart…but it's not, and we do.

I have to stop being such a little girl about it because it isn't going to change.

-o-

Monday I'm back to work, and I have a meeting this morning with Mike Newton, the lawyer I met in the parking garage my first day here. Before I begin acting as a broker, I've been asked to work with Mike to figure out exactly what Eric Yorkie was up to during his last months here. I'm proud to say that it was my assistants, Jenna and Susan, who blew the whistle when they discovered Eric was making unauthorized trades. They were his assistants too, of course; but he wouldn't allow them to touch the files. It was by fluke that they discovered what he was doing, and went to Eleanor and Andrew with solid documentation backing up their claims. When Yorkie was confronted with it, there was nothing he could do to deny it. Management staff "suggested" he resign immediately, which he did. Unfortunately, before the company could take steps to address it with the clients involved, one of them realized what was going on and went directly to the Securities & Exchange Commission to file a complaint.

Which is why lawyers are now involved in figuring this shit out. We will have an SEC agent present as we review the files; Mike, our counsel will be there as well; and me, a broker who is new to the firm. I have no culpability and no strong ties to anyone in the firm that might tempt me to conceal information to protect myself or my colleagues. The key is transparency in the process – it's the only way to appease the SEC and regain the good name the brokerage had.

Mike is shown into my office at around 10 a.m., looking very dapper in a charcoal grey suit. "Hi Jack," he says pleasantly, extending his hand. "Good to see you again."

"Hello Mike." I shake his hand. "Likewise." His pale blue eyes twinkle; he's even better-looking than I remembered. It's obvious the lighting in the parking garage and the elevator just weren't sufficient to do him justice.

"Getting settled in, I see?" He looks around my office curiously. "How are things going?"

"They're going really well, actually," I smile. "Everyone has been really helpful. I'm looking forward to getting the Yorkie issue dealt with so I can get back to being a stock broker again."

"Yeah, he really made a mess of things," Mike replies absently as he stands in front of my bookshelf looking at the contents. I have books, of course, but also a couple of photos of my family, a little statue of the Space Needle, and a few token items from several places where I've volunteered over the years – all oriented toward service to the gay community. He spends the most time looking at these. As he does I wonder whether it's possible that he's gay as well. Unfortunately I have absolutely no intuition about this sort of thing; I'm consistently wrong. Even Ashton's better at guessing than I am. But in this case…well, even if Mike was gay, him being is the firm's legal counsel makes it pretty cut and dried. No fraternization, especially in the midst of this Yorkie stuff.

When Mike turns back to me, he remarks, "It's great that you have a job that you love, something you're looking forward to getting back to."

"And that I deal well with stress," I add.

He grimaces. "Yeah, the last few years have been a little crazy, huh?"

"You could say that," I grin.

At that point my supervisor Andrew comes in and our meeting gets underway. The three of us teleconference with the SEC agent, Steven. Steven outlines what information we'll be collecting and sets out the SEC's guidelines about the chain of custody for the documents we set aside. He suggests that perhaps two weeks will be an adequate length of time for the three of us to go through the files. As we'd all like to begin right away we decide to start tomorrow.

Once the arrangements are complete and the teleconference is over, Mike also reviews some information with Andrew and me, about the type of conversations we should avoid in Steven's presence. He isn't suggesting that we hide anything – only that if we have any doubts, we should speak to him privately about it and he'll present it to the SEC agent.

When we're finished it's noon. This afternoon Mike and I are going to get the 39th-floor conference room ready for us to inhabit for the coming two weeks; but Mike suggests that we get some lunch first. I agree, and we make our way to a lunch place I've discovered down the street from my building. They have amazing soups there, and an employee told me last week they always have a vegetarian option among their daily soups.

The deli almost a cafeteria-style layout. We get our food and pay, then go find a table. The lunch rush is on so it's very busy and quite noisy. At least there won't be any awkward silences.

"So, Jack," Mike asks after a few bites, "what do you think of Chicago so far?"

"So far? It's fucking cold," I grin, "though the sunshine does help make up for that."

"It's been a pretty cold winter, even by Chicago standards," he says, adding wryly, "though I've never noticed the sunshine doing much to make up for subzero temperatures."

"At least you _see_ sunshine here," I counter. "It didn't get this cold in Seattle, but it was so damp, always damp, and almost always cloudy and grey. I have to admit that I found the weather terribly depressing."

"You said you're from California, right?" he recalls, to which I nod. "What took you to Seattle, then?"

"My best friend and I are both from California originally, but we didn't meet till we were both at Harvard. When we were done we knew we wanted to be closer to California than the east coast, so we started applying in Washington, Oregon, California, Arizona…anywhere closer than mid-West. I got a job first, and it was in Seattle; and then he got a couple offers and took the one in Seattle."

"Um, by 'best friend', do you mean boyfriend…?" He trails off questioningly.

I look up at him, a little incredulous. He's sitting there waiting for me to reply, like he's entitled to all the answers about my life. Who the fuck does he think he is?


	7. Chapter 5 - According to Newton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE  
> Many of you know that this Mike Newton was not originated by me, but by DefinitelyStaying in her story House of Cards. So if you already knew this and have read House of Cards, you're ahead of the game and you may skip down to the actual chapter text where great things await you. LOL  
> If you haven't read House of Cards, it's incumbent upon me to give you a bit of a synopsis so you'll understand where Mike is coming from, what happened to him before he met Jack (and also to let you know that I'm not stealing him - DS offered him to me).  
> THIS SYNOPSIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR HOUSE OF CARDS. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED, STOP READING NOW.  
> Ethan Hughes and Mike Newton were childhood best friends in Chicago, until they were eight. At that time Ethan was abducted by a sexual predator who held him and abused him until he was fourteen. Ethan then escaped and was reunited with his parents; but had understandably suffered severe emotional and physical trauma, the effect of which was devastating. When he was old enough for college he moved to Seattle and changed his last name to Bryant; in Seattle he met a professor who became a trusted advisor and friend. That friend eventually introduced him to the world of BDSM. Ethan found that when he was in a consensual relationship involving domination and submission (himself being the dominant) it helped bring order and control to his life that he'd struggled to regain for so long.  
> Ethan becomes a doctor. In his private life he has two submissives, Lexi and Jayden, both of whom are students in Seattle. When each of them finishes their undergrad and both move to Chicago, Ethan is bereft, feeling abandoned and lost. After some poor choices in his efforts to manage his emotional pain result in physical injury to him, Lexi and Jayden, now a couple, convince him to move to Chicago to stay with them for a while during his convalescence.  
> Lexi and Jayden have, together, begun a relationship wherein they are dominant partners to one submissive male, Thomas. Ethan moves into their house and occasionally joins them in the playroom, in a submissive role. He begins to keep a diary, attempting to process the trauma of his childhood that he has never truly dealt with. He is also dealing with the feelings of abandonment that Jayden's move created; wondering why Jayden in particular affected him so profoundly. His journaling helps him come to terms with the fact that he's gay.  
> He renews his relationship with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes; it is at their weekly Sunday brunch that he meets Mike again for the first time since they were children. He finds out that Mike is gay as well. He makes a date with Mike and their relationship slowly evolves into something deeper - tender and loving.  
> As things with Mike blossom, his relationship with Jayden deteriorates. Jayden becomes sullen, withdrawn; and Ethan is upset that he can't help Jayden with whatever is going on. His own feelings towards Jayden are confusing the hell out of him, and he can't help wondering what might have happened if he'd realized sooner that he was gay - if he and Jayden might be together. Their sexual relationship in the playroom continues, which causes Ethan guilt as he hasn't yet told Mike about that facet of his life. When Mike sees some physical scarring on Ethan, Ethan must make allusion to the BDSM lifestyle, telling Mike that pain helps him forget about the torment of his childhood. Mike accepts this; but Ethan does not add that he's in an ongoing physical relationship that includes Jayden, Lexi and occasionally Thomas.  
> Things between Jayden and Ethan deteriorate further when Jayden, assuming Ethan is okay with bottoming, instructs Thomas to top Ethan. Ethan panics and flees the house to Mike's, where he stays for several days. Jayden is wracked with guilt and Ethan feels betrayed. When he returns to the house to discuss it with them, he makes an assumption about Lexi's relationship with Thomas that causes Lexi to blow up at him. Jayden tells them the three of them need to do something together to reconnect; that he doesn't want to completely lose the friendship they've had. The next day when they're on their way to a museum, Lexi dies as the result of a tragic accident.  
> Naturally her death is devastating to both Jayden and Ethan. Amidst the agony of survivor's guilt Jayden decides to return to Seattle, and asks Ethan to return with him. Ethan agonizes over the decision but decides to go, at last realizing he's in love with Jayden. He comes to Mike's house to tell him he's going to go to Seattle with Jayden and as Mike attempts to reason with him, Ethan lets slip that he's been sleeping with Jayden. Mike, understandably, loses his shit and tells Ethan to get the fuck out.  
> So while Ethan and Jayden have their eventual HEA in Washington, Mike is left in Chicago…and that brings us to where Chapter 5 begins.

_Mike_

Generally speaking, people suck.

I was thirty before I discovered this fact. Talk about slow on the uptake – I'm a lawyer, for fuck's sake. If it wasn't for mass human suckage, there would be a lot fewer of us, and we'd only be needed for real estate transactions and the execution of wills.

But because of the dishonest and unethical individuals, I have a job. I protect my clients against the actions of people like Bernie Madoff, Eric Yorkie. Ethan Hughes…Bryant…whatever the fuck he wants to be called now. As it turns out, both Hughes and Bryant flow equally well with the middle names "Cheating Bastard".

_It was Ethan who finally broke through my naivete and illustrated how even my best friend could stick a fucking knife in my back if I became superfluous to his plans. That I was expendable; just a distraction to fill the time until what he really wanted became available._

_The worst part was that I watched Ethan break himself against that rock – the love he wanted and couldn't have – and I fucking put him back together, more than once. He came to me – fled to me is more like it – and I welcomed him with open arms. I didn't ask questions; I wanted to wait until he was ready to tell me. I faithfully believed that day would come, because I loved him._

_He did eventually tell me. He told me that that person, that man who had caused him the pain he fled…that he loved him. That he would move to Seattle with him. That he'd been having sex with him, even after he became intimate with me. That, in short, he was choosing that person over me._

_Isn't it great to find out that you're really worth nothing._

_The weeks after I threw him out of my house were awful. I existed in a fog when I was around others, in a rage when I was alone, and in a nightmare when I slept. I developed a bad habit of clenching my jaw from the stress – as though my teeth could eventually grind down the sharp blade on the knife of dishonesty and abandonment that was wedged into my back. I developed headaches and had to see my dentist, who fitted me for an appliance that prevented me from clenching my teeth at night. The appliance helped with the headaches; and eventually the pain of heartbreak quelled somewhat as well. No longer an exquisite, finely-pointed pain, it became dull, insensitive and blunt._

_Like me._

_I would not, I decided, be the patient, long-suffering guy who got shit on and taken advantage of. That guy was a chump. Instead, I would ask questions and expect real, substantive answers. I would speak unequivocally and accept nothing less than to be treated with respect._

_My parents were a bit taken aback by my new more assertive attitude. My mom told me, "Michael, this just isn't you."_

" _No, it's not the old me," I corrected her (gently – there was no need to be assertive with my parents)._

" _I liked the old you, darling," she mused with a sigh. "I know he hurt you, dear," she steadfastly avoided his name since she knew I didn't want to hear it, "but don't blame yourself."_

" _I don't blame myself for what he did," I insisted. "But Mom, I let him do it. I just sat and let him use me and then toss me when he didn't need me anymore." She looked at me sadly; I knew she shared my assessment. "I knew he had issues that went much deeper than our relationship; but if he respected me at all he wouldn't have done what he did. I can't own his behavior; but I can damn well make sure it doesn't happen again."_

_It was around that time that I stopped going to the Hughes' weekly Sunday brunch. Why should I continue? I couldn't stand the looks of pity, of sympathetic understanding. I didn't want to hear Mrs. Hughes excitedly relating how she had received her son back, essentially, from the dead and how happy he was with…that man. Nor did I want her to have to stop short in the middle of a sentence when she saw me listening – she should be able to enjoy her new happiness without me dampening it. Everything about the Hughes' family home reminded me of Ethan._

_My best friend Marc and his partner Leander, with whom I'd been friends since college, were supportive of my new approach. They understood where I was coming from; they had been with me in the days after Lexi's death when I wondered why I wasn't hearing from Ethan, why the man I loved didn't come to me or even phone. They were indignant that he'd been deceitful about his true intentions, furious that he cheated on me and abandoned me. Marc told me, "Mike, not that I blame you **at all** for what Ethan did to you, but if this makes you feel more in control of your destiny, I think you should do it."_

_I also began to think about whether I should rethink my approach to sex and relationships. At age thirty I'd never had casual sex; never had a one-night stand or a fling. I'd only ever been intimate within a relationship. I supposed that was because the guys I'd been attracted to wanted the same thing. After the disasters my previous two relationships had become, I started wondering if I had it wrong. Sure, I would keep my eye out for Mr. Right, but shouldn't I allow myself to have some fun with Mr. Right Now?_

_I didn't share this, though, with Marc and Leander or my other friends. I was keenly aware that those I considered my closest friends thought of gay promiscuity as a blight, an embarrassing stereotype that continued to place us in a bad light. Every one of them, of course, was in a committed, long-term relationship. With no small amount of bitterness I considered how easy it was to be a little self-righteous in that situation._

_Nevertheless, I had needs. Jerking off was one thing, but it had been months since I'd been fucked. I owned a few toys - it simply was not the same thing. I decided to try going to a club, even though I always felt terribly self-conscious dancing. I couldn't bring myself to go to the baths; at least at a club I could pretend, if only to myself, that I wasn't there solely to look for a hookup._

_On a Saturday night I dressed carefully before checking myself out in the mirror. I couldn't deny that I was looking damn good in a slim-fitting black shirt, the top three buttons undone. With the sleeves rolled up to just below the elbow, my muscular forearms were exposed. The dark blue denims I wore hugged my ass, outlining the curves. I'd recently had my dirty blonde hair cut from a straight shag to a much shorter, tidier cut; I styled the top into soft spikes. I swallowed my nerves and headed out the door._

_The club I had in mind was far enough north of my house that that I didn't feel like walking, especially if I was hoping to leave with someone. The bar was crowded with a mix of older and younger men and women. There was a crowd surrounding the bar, where bare-chested men in jeans were serving brightly-colored glasses of courage and poison. On the dance floor, go-go boys danced nearly naked on platforms surrounded by crowds of admirers. I hadn't been to a club in ages, and I was very quickly remembering why. The noise, the crowds…the twinks. Being tall and muscular, I was often mistaken for a top even when I was in college. Tonight was no different; no sooner had I received my own dram of courage than a smooth young boy – he couldn't have been more than 18, and I hoped he was at least that old – was at my elbow._

" _Hi gorgeous," he said with a sweet smile. I felt his hand on my ass almost before I could reply. "I'm Bryce."_

" _Mike," I replied, removing his hand from my ass._

" _Mmmmmike," he repeated in a hum. "I've never seen you here before, Mmmmmike." He slid his hand up my arm. I felt like I was having a conversation with an octopus – a very persistent baby octopus._

" _Probably because I was already of age when you were born, youngling," I said._

_He was undeterred. "You're right – I'm young…which means I've got stamina. I can fuck and suck all night long."_

" _Bryce, let me make it simple for you." I pried his other hand off my thigh. "You and I are looking for the same thing. I don't top."_

_Instantly he backed off. The expression on his face betrayed his incredulity. "You're a bottom? But…you've got chest hair…"_

" _Yeah. I'm a grownup." Without another word I turned and left him standing there at the bar. I shook my head, wondering to myself who was carrying out the education of our gay youth._

_By the time I was standing at the edge of the dance floor I'd decided that I needed to take matters into my own hands. The dance floor was several steps down from the rest of the bar, surrounded by a railing. I stood at the railing observing for a few moments, scanning the sea of bodies before me. There was one who kept drawing my eye again and again. He was tall, with a full head of shaggy, very dark hair. He was slim and lithe, his bare chest smooth, his arms and shoulders gracefully defined. I moved slowly down the steps onto the sunken floor and made my way towards him. As I drew closer I saw that he had a slim jaw and a smooth chest._

_Soon he realized I was quite definitely checking him out. He turned towards me slightly, meeting my eyes. Though his face remained inscrutable he held my gaze and began to move toward me as he danced. I stood in one spot, swaying slightly to the music – I was, after all, on a dance floor. When he reached me he stopped, standing before me wordlessly. A fringe of dark eyelashes ringed his deep brown eyes. He was utterly beautiful._

" _Hi," I said dumbly. Still not speaking, he reached out with both hands, sliding them slowly down my chest. When they reached my waistband he moved them around to my hips. He started to sway again, drawing me with him. He slid one arm around my lower back and pulled me close. He was my height; our bodies pressed together from our thighs to our shoulders._

_I followed his sensual movements, mimicking the slow roll of his hips as my hands rested on his arms. Continually he held my gaze, and the intensity was such that it simply didn't occur to me that I could look away of my own accord. He smelled earthy and sexy, and my cock was responding to his fucking blazing sensuality. Finally he leaned in, gently drawing his nose from my collarbone to just below my ear, where he spoke as quietly as he could in the noisy club. "I want to be inside you."_

_It was so blunt, so devoid of any preliminaries or pleasantries. It wasn't rude – simply straightforward. I was taken aback even as I reminded myself that this was precisely what I'd come here to find. No-strings sex. I just needed to be fucked. In silent acknowledgment of his words I moved my hands up, linking my arms around his neck, and ground my pelvis into his. His hands clutched my ass, keeping me close while our obscene dance continued. His lips found mine, his tongue probing gently and sensually into my mouth. I felt his hard length pressing into my groin, brushing my own hard cock. Again and again it rubbed against me until I moaned into his mouth._

_After at least half an hour of this torture he finally asked, "Your place or mine?"_

" _Yours," I answered breathlessly. "I'll drive."_

_It was less than fifteen minutes later that we were standing in the living room of a smallish Lakeview house. "You live alone?" I asked, hoping he didn't have a roommate to come in and interrupt._

" _I do," he confirmed, his hands finding the buttons of my shirt. It hit the floor and was soon joined by the rest of our clothes as we hastily removed them from each other. When we were completely naked he drew me back into his arms, our cocks pressing together between our bodies. He placed passionate sucking kisses down my neck and across my collarbone and chest. My hands found his smooth bare ass; I was delighted to find that, despite his slim build, he had a reasonably full, round backside. He wriggled his hands in my ass, reveling in the feel of my strokes and gentle pinches._

" _You have great hands," he murmured. Now that I could truly hear his voice I found it deep and melodic; it rumbled from a place low in his chest. It was so sexy that I could only respond by falling to my knees. Without releasing my hold in his ass I took the head of his cock between my lips, bathing it with my tongue. He murmured something unintelligible in that low rumble. I slid my lips further along his length, his cock forging greater ingress into my throat. Soon my lips found the base of his cock, where he was hairless and completely smooth. He groaned softly as I held my place, swallowing against the urge to gag. When I needed to breathe I drew back somewhat, letting my lips travel back to the silken head._

_For long moments I repeated a pattern of advance and retreat, attack and withdraw. His hands stroked the soft spikes of my hair. I looked up at him a few times; each time I found him watching me, enthralled; his lips were parted as he breathed heavily. When he murmured that he was close, I pulled back and slowly jacked him off, placing the head of his cock on my tongue so he could watch his cum spurt down my throat. I held his eyes as he came; his gorgeous face was otherworldly when he was gripped by euphoria. I held his cum on my tongue till he had stopped adding to the pool, then he pulled me to my feet and kissed me, tasting his cream in my mouth before I swallowed._

" _Fuck, that was hot," he whispered. "You give great head."_

" _Thanks," I replied. "Your cock is gorgeous. You're gorgeous."_

" _Mmm, so are you," he smiled softly, then he gestured toward the couch. "Have a seat."_

_I sat and he spread my knees and gently pulled my ass closer to the edge. He knelt before me and moistened his lips before licking the underside of my cock. I shivered at the feel of his warm wet tongue. One of his hands found my sac and encircled it close to my body, gently pulling my balls. I struggled with myself, fighting not to let my hips thrust towards the warm cavern of his mouth. His tongue made wider passes up and down my length, moving up one side then the other, the top and the underside, swirling along under the frenulum. Finally I could stand the torture no longer. I took his face in my hands, holding it so he wouldn't move his head. Moving painfully slowly I pushed deeper into his mouth. My body trembled when his beautiful, talented mouth sucked hard. I continued to pump very slowly in and out. When he released my balls and moistened his finger in his mouth I shivered in anticipation. Sure enough, his finger found my entrance and gently massaged._

_I groaned when his fingertip breached the tightly-gathered flesh; despite how careful he was, we had no lube to ease the movement between us. Releasing me from his mouth with a smile, as if he could read my mind he reached behind him to the coffee table and grabbed a bottle of lube. He drizzled some on me and gently massaged my intimate skin, this time sliding easily into my ass with one finger, then two. He caught a spare drop of lube with his other fingers and glided them across the skin under the head of my cock. He moved so slowly, so deliberately, I thought I would lose my mind. He knew what he was doing, gradually stoking the flames of my desire until they reached a fever pitch. I was desperate for his cock; as talented as he was, I couldn't wait to have him inside me._

" _Please…" I began to plead before realizing I didn't know his name. I didn't think this was the time to ask. "You're driving me wild."_

" _I can see that," he said, his voice husky and thick with lust. "Look how easily you open up for me. You need it bad, don't you?"_

" _God, yeah," I moaned. "I need it."_

" _You want me inside you?"_

" _Please…"_

_He reached back to the coffee table where a condom lay beside the lube. He pulled the condom out of the packet. "Put it on me," he instructed. I unrolled the condom down over his rigid cock, giving a little squeeze when I reached the base. He lifted my legs, placing the soles of my feet on his chest so that I was doubled in two; then he held the base of his cock and with one long, smooth thrust was inside me._

_I gasped. It had been far too long since I'd felt that intense pressure of being completely stretched and filled. His beautiful dark eyes watched me carefully before he withdrew almost completely and slid back into me. It felt fantastic, but I wanted more. I removed my feet from his chest and wrapped them around his thighs, pulling him deeper. He stopped me, pivoting our bodies so I was lying flat on the couch with him atop me. When he resumed his slow, deep thrusts into me I reached up to his chest, rolling his nipples between my fingers. He moaned and lowered his face to mine, kissing me repeatedly._

_I was engulfed by what I'd craved for so long, what I needed so desperately. In the past I'd disdained the nameless fuck, never imagining that I was someone who could derive much pleasure from sex without love. I found tonight that while the lack of romantic feelings didn't make the sex better, it **was** different. I didn't find myself thinking about my partner's pleasure as much as I would have otherwise; I allowed myself to simply feel the physical contact, feel what he was doing to me. _

_He reached between us and stroked my cock, quickening the pace of his thrusts. I could feel my body hurtling toward my peak. I moaned that I was going to come; he slid his hand down to the base of my cock and held tightly there, stretching the skin along the hard, throbbing length as he pushed deep and hard into me, his deep voice urging me to come for him. With a shout I shot my load all over my stomach and chest, my cock pulsing with each spate. He released my length and with both hands grabbed my shoulders; he used them as leverage to piston himself in and out of me. My orgasm continued as he fucked me deep and hard, our skin slapping loudly each time his groin met my ass until he threw his head back and growled. I wondered if I'd ever seen someone as beautiful as he was when he bucked and writhed in his orgasm._

_He eventually rode out his peak and collapsed onto my jizz-covered abdomen. To my surprise, rather than pulling out immediately he remained in me until his cock had softened enough that he had to pull out or risk losing the condom. He murmured, "Stay put a sec," and returned in a moment with a hot facecloth and a clean dry towel for me._

" _Wow. Thanks," I said, surprised._

_He simply smiled. He cleaned up as well, and when we had both gone so far as to replace our briefs, he said, "I'm Nicolas."_

_I looked up, again surprised. At this point I'd pretty well figured we weren't going to exchange names. "Mike," I offered._

_He smiled again and nodded gently. We continued to dress in silence until he was walking me to the door. "I haven't seen you before," he commented. "Are you visiting?"_

" _No," I replied. "Just never been much for the clubs."_

" _Lucky for me, then," he said, his hand resting on the door knob._

" _And me too," I added with a smile. He held my gaze for an instant before reaching one hand to my neck and pulling me in for a last deep kiss. I took that opportunity to thread my hands into his shaggy dark hair, knotting my fingers in the soft waves until we pulled apart._

" _Thanks, Nicolas," I murmured._

_His hand moved from the back of my neck up to the soft spikes of hair on top of my head, giving them a soft brush. "Thanks, Mike," he replied before stepping back, pulling the door open with him._

" _Good night," I said with a smile, and was gone._

_As I drove home I thought again about why I'd decided to go this route tonight. I had asked myself several times whether it was an attempt to fuck **him** out of my head; but kept coming up with the same answer. It wasn't; I needed sex. I was still angry with him – I was furious – but I wasn't in love with him. I wasn't doing this because of him. I was doing it for myself. I knew I simply couldn't go that long again without bottoming. _

_Over the next couple of months I did go out several more times – every three weeks or so – and found an adequate Right Now each time. I would gladly have gone home with Nicolas again, knowing how good our chemistry had been, but I didn't see him on my subsequent visits to the clubs._

By the time I meet Jack Charles, it's been five months. Five months of being on my own. Five months of becoming comfortable with my new direct approach…and I believe I've seen positive results from that approach.

From the moment I meet Jack I'm positive he's gay. Seeing the commendations from queer organizations in Seattle is unnecessary; in fact, the commendations themselves are meaningless – all they say is that he has volunteered in the queer community. No, my gaydar is what tells me we play for the same team, and I'm uncannily accurate. I've sometimes identified people (privately, at least) before they even admitted it to themselves.

When I go to lunch with Jack he tells me about his 'best friend' who still lives in Seattle. I ask for clarification – is "best friend" a euphemism for boyfriend? When he doesn't answer I look up to find him silently staring at me, chagrin plainly written on his face. He holds that gaze for an uncomfortably long time, staring me down until my fucking palms begin to sweat.


End file.
